


Mustela putorius furo magnum

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Sex, Animal Abuse, Biting, Breeding Kink, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Come Inflation, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Don't Like Don't Read, Excessive Come, Foot Fetish, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Lingerie, M/M, Male Lactation, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Nesting, Nipple Play, No World Building, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Paw - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possible Untagged Warnings, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Reverse cowgirl position, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Stuffing, Tail Sex, Unsanitary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 68,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Spectre unexpectedly shuts himself out from the world in the winter and Ryoken is unsure what to do about this worrisome behaviour. After all, how does one treat a mystery illness in a giant ferret? Also known as, the story of how Ryoken got bitched.
Relationships: Revolver | Kougami Ryouken/Spectre
Comments: 58
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing unwholesome happens in Chapter One, just in case anyone was curious.  
> Additionally, Chapter Seven is just some art that I did for the fic and figured I would attach.

A few nights after the disgraced scientist Dr. Kogami Kiyoshi’s death, the pressure beneath the surface tension of his eight-year-old son had finally blown. From the moment of his father’s death, young Ryoken had tried to be strong in the face of all sorts of allegations regarding his father’s unethical experiments and from the grief itself. He had tried to bear the condolences and the protections from said allegations, too. All of it weighed on his tiny shoulders and finally, he snapped. With hot tears and screaming, Ryoken ran away.

He ran away from the cliffs where his father once resided, where his carers, his father’s assistants were moving in, from the mansion he lived in and into the forest. His carers called after him, but he kept his head down. He clenched his eyes and his little fists, he refused. He didn’t want them around. He just wanted to scream but instead, he kept running, not looking back. Not wanting to look back. But then, Ryoken found himself in a place he had never been before.

It was some sort of meadow and in the middle, there was a giant tree trunk. He was awed by it. The fact that a clearing had suddenly arisen out of nowhere, the mystery of the tree cut down, so he drew inwards. His wet eyes drying as his curiosity chipped away at his grief and misery.

Ryoken placed his hand on the tree trunk and a tiny gasp slipped through his parted lips. He circled the tree, walking around at a slow pace, his breathing began to even out as he admired the ancient whorls inside the trunk and he admired the bark which remained, clinging, to the trunk. The roots were partially risen out of the ground, thick ripples going up and down. Ryoken returned to what he considered the front of the tree; the place where the roots all sprawled out of. There was a dark hollow beneath it, so he dropped down to his belly in rapid curiosity.

He was certain that he had found a new home in this tree trunk’s base. It looked warm under there even though the space was completely blacked out with shadows. The setting sun was beginning to dip further down beyond the mountain’s back and Ryoken pressed onward. Just an inch and then he was stopped.

Eyes opened just beyond him. Ryoken exclaimed. They were startlingly blue and the body that they belonged to pressed back against Ryoken’s intrusion. Ryoken scrambled back and wriggled around on the ground, heart hammering and a different kind of adrenaline filled him. Before, when he had run away from home, the adrenaline almost slowed him because he knew he was doing the wrong thing and that had somehow spurred opposite and conflicting reactions inside of him. Now, he was going as fast as possible, but terror had made him ineffectual in his escape.

Ryoken grasped at the grass behind him as he tried to get away. He whimpered and tears welled up in his eyes. But the creature did not lash out at him.

Instead, it slowly approached him. Its lengthy body slowly circled around him until it confronted Ryoken once more. It took great interest in his buttock, shoving its snout between Ryoken’s legs. Ryoken wriggled and laughed, kicking back gently as he did not take well to having his personal space invaded like that, even if he was ticklish and therefore amused by it, but he had met dogs before. Dogs did something similar, but the familiarity of it made it no less invasive. Fortunately, the creature moved on and circled him another one or two times, making him dizzy with all things going around, before it finally flopped down in front of him.

Now, both on their bellies; staring directly into one another’s eyes. Ryoken looked deep into those blue eyes again and they were curious. Not bloodthirsty. So, he ceased his wailing and his crying, but his face remained wet with his tears. He tried to understand what he was looking at but honestly, he wasn’t certain as to what kind of creature owned such a muzzle.

The creature was about as big as an eight-year-old boy might be, though slightly smaller. Its body was oddly proportioned; slimmer at its head and neck, wider and fatter at its hips and stomach. It stood up on four little clawed paws; its hindlegs bigger and nearly bow-legged.

Ryoken stared down its face. It had a blunted muzzle which pulled back against a somewhat small face. Its ears, atop its head, were rounded but nearly imperceptible. Its eyes were just slightly to the side of its face; not quite full frontal but nearly. They framed a cutely pink, triangular nose. Twitchy and bent-out-of-shape whiskers jutted out from just beyond its cheeks. Its fur was a vanilla-like off-white, nearly silver though the setting sun was dyeing its bristled fur in deeper brownish-yellow colours which were of a kind of ugly hue. Though, interestingly, there was a pattern to the left side of its face where the deeper shade to the colour of its fur to create a flat sort of crest.

“What are you…?” Ryoken wondered aloud.

He could almost remember the species of animal this creature resembled but given its bigger-than-most-dogs status, he was having trouble remembering. A rodent? A lagomorph? Something else completely?

Unsurprisingly, the creature did not reply with words like Ryoken had used. Instead, it used a soft voice on him and made chittering noises at him. Ryoken was not alarmed by the noises and instead, he took it as a very good sign. So, with slow movements, he got off his belly and sat up. The creature mimicked and when it sat on his hindlegs and head up, it seemed more slender than fat. Perhaps even taller than Ryoken.

Ryoken was further affirmed by the creature’s mimicry of his behaviour. So, he raised his hand slightly. He kept it in a fist – just like Uncle Aso showed him when Ryoken had wanted to play with a stray cat which had wandered close to them once when they had been eating fish and chips on the pier together once – and he kept his hopes close to his heart. He found the creature friendly and he wanted to convey his own friendliness back to the creature given the peaceful and inquisitive nature it had displayed thus far.

The creature sniffed Ryoken’s fist. It tickled slightly. Ryoken watched the creature’s whiskers bounce as it tried to decide if Ryoken was good or bad. He held his breath and his patience was soon rewarded. The creature nuzzled against his hand. He beamed and slowly unfurled his curled in fingers. He did it gradually and whilst the creature he was entertaining was somewhat resistant to the motion, it didn’t panic. It wasn’t obviously distressed so, Ryoken tested his luck.

Again, using slow motions, Ryoken raised his hand and he placed it, palm down, on the top of the creature’s head. The creature lifted its head and Ryoken giggled as its nose, slightly wet, bumped against his forearm. He patted the creature and it began to cluck. Ryoken laughed in reply and that in turn, made the creature’s noises louder and louder until it began to playfully kick and buck.

Its head bobbed up and down as its hindlegs kicked. It hopped about and leapt, mostly at a sideways angle and up and down. Ryoken watched, entertained and amused greatly and the feelings which had been simpering inside of him twisted slightly. Not in a bad way, just in a way that he was finally at least briefly distracted from the pain and grief that he had been suppressing – yet also dwelling in – for days now. He laughed joyfully.

“You’re silly.” he said through his happiness.

The creature looked at him with wide blue eyes. It toddled closer to him and wrapped itself around him. Its body was quite long but its tail, which whipped about excitedly, felt longer. It rested its head in Ryoken’s lap.

Ryoken scratched behind its ears and the creature chittered once more. Ryoken thought it sounded more like a purr, but he thought only cats purred and this creature, probably not an animal, likely a juvenile monster of some description, was not feline in the slightest. Still, he liked it. He liked the feel of its wiry fur between his fingers and clearly, it liked the feeling of his squishy fingers through its fur. He smiled but that smile faded.

Night had just about settled so Ryoken glanced around. “Are you like me, kitty?” he asked. He knew it wasn’t a kitten, or anything similar, but it was the first affectionate nickname which came to his mind. “Are you all alone too?”

Another innocuously incorrect statement. Ryoken knew, rationally, that he had Uncle Aso, Aunt Kyoko, and Uncle Genome but they weren’t family like he and his father were. He didn’t have a mother and now he didn’t have a father either. It was a peculiar sort of lonesomeness that he, a child, was still working through with tiny strides.

But, strangely enough, the creature which Ryoken had befriended cooed in a mournful way – as though in agreement. It was alone too. That was not just something Ryoken had decided in an anthropomorphic way, but it was a fact.

“Well now you’re not…” Ryoken mumbled.

He brought his knees up and consequently, the creature’s face as well. It blinked at him as he embraced it tightly around its neck. He buried his face against its fur, and he choked on sobs that he was refusing to cry.

“You have me.” Ryoken continued. He nuzzled the creature again. “You’re not alone anymore… and neither am I.”

The creature continued to make its contented noises. It squirmed slightly and its own, long-bodied way, it hugged Ryoken back. Ryoken’s heart fluttered and half a laugh, a hiccup really, gurgled in his throat as happiness flickered through him for the first time in days. The creature was so warm, especially as the cool of the night began to blanket them.

So, through a smile, Ryoken said: “Your kind of smelly but I love you anyway.”

The creature wriggled about and out of Ryoken’s arms. It placed its forepaws on his legs, its claws lightly pricking over his cross-legged, and it reached up. It licked at his cheeks and lapped at his semi-dry tears. Ryoken’s smile only got wider.

He took a breath. It was too late to go home now, he thought as the blue-black darkness of just after twilight took a hold of the mountainous meadow that he had found. He twisted back around and continued to hold onto the creature.

“Will you let me stay with you tonight?” he asked it. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you the best bed in the world, I promise.”

The creature blinked in an almost puzzled way but turned its head over. It seemed very flexible. Almost noodle-y, to Ryoken. Ryoken turned his head too. Together, they both stared at the tree trunk. Ryoken got the feeling that this tree, when it hadn’t been chopped down, had meant a lot to this creature.

“You lost something important to you as well, huh…?” Ryoken murmured. “Yep! That settles it. We’re two of a kind, we should stick together.”

The creature yipped at him happily. A breeze whistled past and Ryoken shivered. In turn, his stomach growled.

“I’m a little bit hungry…” he murmured.

The creature wriggled loose from Ryoken’s embrace. Ryoken observed its movements very carefully. It did its jump and leap and bound movements again but this time without the noises which came with it. then, it ceased all movements. Ryoken licked his lips and his heart hammered. The creature then, slowly, purposefully, put distance between it and Ryoken.

“Y-You’re not going to leave me… forever… right? You’re hungry too, yeah?” Ryoken said.

The creature made noises at him of an unidentifiable nature and Ryoken felt damming tears inside of him. He took a whinnying breath and he placed absurd hope in the return of this creature to what he presumed – knew for a fact – was its den.

“I-I’m going to wait for you. Right here then.” Ryoken said, stifling his sobs but his lower lip wobbled, his chin also prickled and became almost strawberry-like as well.

The creature barked once more at him before turning around, a ridiculous-looking thing thanks to the great length of its body, and it bounded off. Once it got going, it was surprisingly fast. It zipped into the greenery, now obscured in blue thanks to the night, and swiftly disappeared.

The wind blew again and Ryoken shivered. The cold was creeping in, so he decided to crawl into the creature’s den. He felt oddly small in it. It had been dug out slightly, to give it more room and something like hay or straw had been brought in to pad it out. He also felt dried leaves beneath him. He squinted through the complete darkness, but such a squint turned to a yawn.

Ryoken curled up. He brought his knees beneath his chin and tried to sleep. The ground was lumpy, but the den itself was comfortably warm. He fell asleep easier here than he had in the nights before. His hands remembered the touch of the creature’s fur on his skin rather and focusing on that made drifting to sleep easier as he wasn’t plagued with memories of both the happy times and the unhappy times with his father.

Sometime later, Ryoken awoke to the sound of claws scrabbling against dirt. He opened his eyes wearily and outside; he saw the glint of the creature’s eyes. He beamed. He was quick to scramble out of the creature’s den. Outside, in the framing of the roots, the creature showed off the bounty that it had worked so hard to accumulate. It had brought him two rabbits with ragged, bloody necks as well as various fruits and berries.

Ryoken’s stomach gurgled and his eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t eat some of this.” he said, apologetic. “I might get sick. But,” he reached out and picked up an apple, “thank you for the meal.”

Ryoken wiped down his apple before eating it. Its skin was slimy in places, likely with drool so he took the precaution as it seemed that all the food had been in his friend’s mouth at some point. Then, once he felt brave, or just hungry, enough he took a bite out of the apple. It was crisp and juicy, quite tart. He couldn’t tell what colour it was due to the poor light, but he suspected green. It tasted more like a green apple than a red apple. He ate it down to the core, eating as much as he could before moving onto the second apple that the creature had brought back for him. Meanwhile, it was gorging itself on the rabbits.

It ate them ravenously. It tore off their heads and made quick work of their skulls; fur, flesh, and everything else. The noises spooked Ryoken. Especially as the creature got blood on its muzzle, sullying its cuteness from before. It was a carnivore, he realised. He remembered what he had been taught about carnivores. They had the more obvious defences against nature, such as teeth and claws, but they weren’t cruel. Not like humans were. Humans sometimes hunted for sport. A true carnivore, an obligate carnivore, would never do such a thing. So, the slight apprehension Ryoken had as he watched the creature devour the two rabbits whole eased slightly.

Ryoken discarded his second apple core. “Thank you, kitty.” He then yawned, patting in front of his mouth. “I’m tired, what about you?”

The creature sifted through some of the other foods that it had brought with it, as though trying to coax Ryoken into eating more but Ryoken simply laughed awkwardly. Giving up, the creature padded up to him and licked his face. Its tongue was coarse, but it tickled. Though, Ryoken’s nose screwed up at the scent of the creature’s different smells. Not only did it have bad breath, the smell of the blood from its meal was also quite gross, and then there was the natural musk that it emitted. Still, Ryoken was able to stomach it on the whole.

The creature finished licking at Ryoken’s face and toddled inside of its den. Ryoken watched how it disappeared into complete darkness, but he could still hear it. It padded about, going around and around in circles before completely flopping down. It hummed and its tail thumped against the ground.

Ryoken took that as good as an invitation as any. He crawled back into the den but this time, he had to contend with the creature as well. The creature squirmed around him but let him take up most of the room amid its bedding. Ryoken didn’t mind. Its pelt was warm as it all but encircled him. He breathed shallowly to avoid the stench that the creature produced but after a few minutes – maybe many – he grew used to the smell. He almost found it comforting. He certainly found its cute whinnies – snores and yawns – to be comforting, lulling him to sleep.

They slept together for a few hours. Here, beneath the tree trunk, they were sheltered completely from anything which may have lurked nearby to cause harm, even if it was just the wind. Dawn soon pervaded and early sunlight rays did penetrate the darkness under the tree trunk, even if it was shallowly. With the new day, the creature awoke and because it was awake, it decided that its new den mate ought to be awake too.

Ryoken grumbled as he woke groggily. He rubbed at his eyes as he tried to remember where he was. He felt tired and his back half hurt but he was warm.

“G’mornin’…” he mumbled.

The creature yipped at him and licked his face again. He laughed and pushed the creature off him. It then crawled out of its den. Ryoken peered out over the grass. There was a slight mist this morning. It looked beautiful. The creature barked at him and followed through with a sideways hop.

“You hungry, kitty?” he asked. “Me too. It’s okay. I know you’ll be back.”

The creature barked at him then sprinted off. Ryoken laughed as he watched its body go up and down with each bound before it disappeared into the outskirts of the meadow. Slipping past copses of trees and into the denser woods. Ryoken yawned and his stomach grumbled again. It was still very early, he thought as he retreated back into the den again, so he hoped that he could fall asleep and rest for a bit more. Fortunately, he was able to – even though he was plagued by thoughts of worrying his carers severely. After all, he had been missing for a fair few hours now. Would they think to search for him this far?

Ryoken didn’t know but he was able to fall asleep for a little bit. Eventually, his companion, the creature, returned and with another successful hunt. It woke him up with a shrill call which put a sleepy smile on Ryoken’s face as he crawled out of its den. It proudly showed off the food that it had brought them.

It had returned with three slain squirrels and another selection of drooled on fruits such as apples, but it had also managed to forage a radish and some mushrooms as well, all of which were of varying sizes and species. Some of which Ryoken hesitated at the edible status of so he decided to play it safe, even though he worried that might be an insult to the creature. Still, his mouth watered, and stomach yearned. It barked at Ryoken a couple times and he reached across its bounty to pet it.

“Good boy…” Ryoken praised it.

The creature nosed against his arm as he petted and praised it. It seemed to really like being praised and touched. That made Ryoken happy and even made him reluctant to pull his hand back, but he was hungry. He took a red apple from the pile and smiled.

“Thank you for the food, kitty.” Ryoken told it.

The creature crooned back before scoffing down on one of the squirrels. It pulled one away from the other kills and tore off its head. Ryoken hid the crunching noises with other crunching noises. He bit into the apple and tried to time it so that he didn’t have to listen to the noise of the creature destroy bones in its mouth. Its fangs were deceptively tiny but certainly destructive.

The apple that Ryoken ate, meanwhile, was somewhat flavourless compared to the one that he had eaten before. The juices that streamed from it as he ate were also more watery than tart but any food was better than no food. So, he ate it to the core before chucking it away. He looked around the bounty, to see if the creature had brought him anything else definitively edible aside from the apples.

As Ryoken did that, the creature nudged a squirrel closer to him. He screwed up his face.

“I can’t eat that…” Ryoken said. “I don’t know how to skin it or how to cut it up, so I only eat the good parts… M-My dad never taught me to hunt… I know that some parents do that for their kids… My dad didn’t. Now he can’t because he’s dead. Did your mummy and daddy teach you how to hunt? ‘Cause you’re really good at it.”

The creature stared at him. Ryoken snickered but it wasn’t a happy noise. He sighed and gave up. He started on his fourth apple. This one was mildly sweet; more flavourful than his previous. The creature dejectedly gave up on trying to get Ryoken to eat some squirrel and began to wolf it down instead.

Once the third and final squirrel hunted had been completely devoured, the creature moved onto rummaging through some of the other foods it had brought back with it. Ryoken was surprised; doubly so when it began eating a plush, white mushroom which was bigger than his fist. Perhaps his new friend wasn’t quite the obligate carnivore Ryoken had immediately suspected of it or maybe this was no different to when cats and dogs ate grass?

Still, the food vanished quite quickly and what wasn’t eaten, was abandoned and destined to become fertiliser for the grass in this meadow. After all, this tree trunk didn’t need it.

“So boy,” Ryoken began as he sat up, cross-legged and as full as he was going to be, “do you wanna come home with me?

The creature leapt at him, pinned him to the ground and licked excitedly at his face. It playfully trampled him and Ryoken was sent reeling with laughter. He managed to push it off him and the creature jumped and bounded around. Hopping and whatnot; looking ridiculously silly whilst it played its strange game. Ryoken’s face lit up with joy though. He was certain. That was a complete and empathetic yes so, he got to his feet as well.

“Let’s go home then. To my place.” he said.

The creature ceased its playing and looked up at Ryoken then towards its den. It let rip a great and tremendously pitiful whine. Ryoken’s heart quivered. He knelt, one knee down and one up, in front of his companion and placed a hand on the creature.

“That tree means a lot to you, huh?” he murmured. “I’d be sad too, having to leave my home as well but I can’t live here. I’ve got… I’ve got people who care about me who’re gonna be mad that I’ve run away but I don’t wanna leave you behind. You’re my friend, please, let me take you home?”

The creature whimpered and Ryoken took a step forward.

He half turned around then said, “I promise I’ll come back and play if you don’t wanna come home with me.”

Ryoken took a breath and his lower lip wobbled. He was worried that he would never see his new friend again. After all, what if the assistants – his carers – were so mad that he had run away that they never let him out of his sights again? Therefore, making it impossible for him to visit this place again. Still, he stepped forward and as he did so, from behind him, the creature lunged at him.

It avidly sniffed the back of his trousers and rubbed up against his body. Circling him, going around and around and begging for attention. Ryoken laughed. It was fun, getting knocked against as he was. The creature was demonstrably strong for its unusual shape and size. He patted it on the head and together, they marched off.

Walking downwards through the mountain was quite nice. The mist followed them as they went. Birds chirped and sang, unseen, in the treetops. The morning was mild, not even a breeze blew through the foliage, the sky could be seen. It was dark and murky. Great, grey clouds were smeared overhead and there was a funny smell in the air. The smell of rain just before it happened.

Making it to the bottom of the mountain was easier than Ryoken thought it would be. It was barely a two and a half hour walk from the meadow. He was trying to keep track, but his feet ached, so he and his companion stopped. They rested by some trees and not too far away, they could see the beginnings of the town emerge before them. There was a tall fence erected about fifty adult paces away. If Ryoken recalled correctly, there should be an orphanage nearby.

Here, Ryoken’s companion grew a little tense. It wanted to rest in his lap and its body was rigid. Ryoken idly scratched behind its ear and he wondered why the apprehension?

After a few minutes of rest, Ryoken got up again and he started off in a direction which pointedly gave the orphanage – or whatever that building was – plenty of girth. That seemed to help calm the creature. Though, giving it constant pats also helped soothe its seeming anxiety. Once they successfully avoided it, it seemed like a pretty clear path from one end of town to the other. Though, the creature’s anxiety seemed to spike and worsen the more buildings and houses they passed.

Fortunately, it was still quite early in the morning, so the houses were locked up tight still and the streets were quite empty. Further in fortune, it began to rain. The rain which began to lash and pelt, truly and completely soaking and drenching everything below, helped disguise both friend and foe. It reduced the creature’s vision, making it unable to perceive humans which weren’t the one that it had befriended and humans which may have perceived it as a danger, and worse still as a danger to Ryoken, were now liable to misperceiving it as some sort of large and bizarre dog.

It was still raining when Ryoken had finally made it home. It was about midday when he returned home but given the miserable weather conditions, it was hard to judge the time beyond the porcelain face of a clock. He was soaked to the bone, but he was home. Kyoko hugged him with a towel whilst Aso and Genome berated him. His return somehow managed to hide the fact that someone – something – had tagged along with him but the adults decided for now, such a thing could stay, because they weren’t sure what it was or where Ryoken had found it. For now, what mattered was putting him through a hot bath and praying that he didn’t fall ill thanks to his adventuring.

He was dirty and muddy, so he was stripped quickly. Kyoko drew a bath whilst the men contended with the seeming animal Ryoken had brought home. They tried to corner it, but it lashed out. Ryoken, naked as the day he was born, heard this and ran away from the bathroom. He grabbed a towel from Aso and forced him and Genome to get away from his friend.

The creature whimpered but slowly approached Ryoken. Ryoken knelt beside it, shivering and clad only in a towel, helped dry it off. Genome sighed.

“I think,” he said, “regardless of whether or not we like it, Ryoken has successfully brought home and tamed himself a pet.”

Ryoken got up. He hiked up his towel around him and toddled off. The creature followed in tow, though quite shyly. When they both returned to the white tiled bathroom, Kyoko gave Ryoken a harsh as she could be on the boy type scolding, but he obediently got into the bath regardless. The creature followed in and Kyoko sighed. She gave up as Ryoken and that thing splashed about. He laughed impishly as the creature got used to the fact that hot water was a possibility no different to water from a river or from rain.

Meanwhile, Kyoko enlisted the other carers into the situation. Either Aso or Genome could deal with this but more likely than not, Aso as Genome was too flaky to even attempt to parent. So, Kyoko and Aso switched places. Though, at age eight, Ryoken was quite independent and honestly, at such an age, supervision was unnecessary but given that there was a wild animal – or something worse – in the house now, supervision became necessary regardless so Aso kept an eye on both the boy and his new companion.

Ryoken stayed in the bath until he pruned. When he hopped out of it, he was in an awful hurry to get dry and get changed. The creature then leapt out of the lukewarm and soapy water too. It shook down and Ryoken then helped pat it dry. He was proud of his work when his new friend was sufficiently dry and fluffy. Not to mention, no longer stinky.

Now that Ryoken was in his day clothes, he was brought to the kitchen because the kitchen was where serious things happened. He was made to sit at the table. His creature followed, a little scared, behind him. Ryoken sat, still as a statue, whilst the creature whimpered and whined, it buried its head in his lap. He scratched behind its ear whilst the three adults sat down and donned faces of betraying serenity.

Kyoko took a breath and decided she would start. “Ryoken,” her voice was firm, “it was incredibly terrifying for us when you ran away like that. We were worried sick about you. But… We’re glad you managed to come home safe and sound.”

“I know…” Ryoken murmured.

“You will be punished for this. No dessert for two weeks, extra study hours, and you will be supervised at all times during leisure time.” Aso said.

Genome nodded, having nothing more to add. His eyes were closed, and his arms folded.

Ryoken pouted. “Alright… I know what I did was wrong… There’s no point arguing that.”

He held on tighter to his companion which, in turn, drew attention to the elephant in the room. Well, the unidentifiable creature in the room. A creature which could be identified as not being many things; including but not limited to, a cat, a dog, or even an elephant.

Ryoken stared defiantly at his carers. “I know what I did was wrong, but can we keep him? Please? He kept me safe and warm. And fed! He’s such a clever boy; he found me things to eat – and himself too. He’s a carnivore!”

Kyoko sighed. Her eyebrows twinged. “Do we have the resources to look after a, um… what even is that thing?” She made hand out gestures to further her point.

“Looks like it’s my time to shine.” Genome said.

He got to his feet and he looked all too smug. He approached Ryoken and his little creature grew intensely nervous around Genome who assessed it.

“It’s a mustelid.” he said, far too decisive as he looked over its paws and its head. Not touching but his eyes were certainly too much for the poor creature to handle.

“A what?” Ryoken replied.

“The family classification for weasels and ferrets. Though, this one’s colouring seems to be more ferret than weasel…” Aso said. “But weasels and ferrets are tiny. This thing is big enough to put a dog to shame.”

“A giga mustelid then.” Genome decided. “It’s not an animal, that’s for sure. And, as we all know, there are three things something which breathes can be. Human, animal, and…”

“Huh…” Ryoken murmured.

“Oh gosh, can we even legally keep animals after what happened?” Kyoko asked.

“He’s not an animal. He’s a monster.” Ryoken replied, uppity. But his tone of voice – and his facial expression, too – shifted when he realised what Kyoko had meant.

He flinched. His wide blue eyes darkened and suddenly, he could remember things which had been better left forgotten. Or, at the very least, buried in the avalanche of grief towards his father. His father’s legacy wasn’t exactly black and white, even a child could understand that.

Dr. Kogami Kiyoshi was a mad genius. He wanted to do what those could only dare to do in fiction: trespass on the domains of forces larger than all life possible. He wanted to create a new species; a new human, a new animal, a new monster: anything so long as it came from his own genesis. In his pursuit for this thing, his Ignis, he had secreted away strays and even pets alike, confining them to his laboratories and he tried to do what alchemists did best: turn lead into gold. But the gold that he sought did not come from lead but rather flesh and bone. For his inglorious purposes, he slaughtered and tortured animals, stitching them together and trying to transmute them into his new species of his own design.

Ryoken remembered that clearly now. He swallowed. He remembered the cages. Beaten and bloody, bent out of shape, hiding animals which were sickly and scabby. He remembered the sounds of those animals dying and being tortured were forever etched in his mind, heart, and soul. He remembered all those terrible things; the screams and screeches, the scratches and cuts so deep they wounded everything around them in the flesh. Ryoken trembled. His eyes watered and in the blue, his carers were certain of what he had remembered. No doubt their place in the atrocity as well.

Kyoko attempted to reach across the table, in a vain effort to comfort the boy but she was a touch too slow. His companion, the ferret, rebuked the state of terror and grief which was rather quickly consuming Ryoken. It poked its head up and nudged against his face. It nuzzled him over and over until Ryoken was forced to reciprocate. He nuzzled back and wet not only his cheeks, but the creature’s as well. Still, he was able to draw a feeble smile across his face and that seemed to be the end goal of the ferret monster. It licked at his face, so he gave it a smooch in return. It chittered softly.

Genome sighed. “We definitely can’t separate them after that little display of emotional grounding.” he said with flippant hand gestures.

“Does he have a name, Ryoken, dear?” Kyoko asked.

“Is it a ‘he’ at all?” Aso asked.

“I’m pretty sure he’s boy.” Ryoken said, staring at his companion’s eyes.

“There’s one way to check.” Genome said and he made an obscene gesture – one to indicate the fondling of testicles – which went over Ryoken’s head whilst ruffling Aso and Kyoko’s feathers.

“Can you check?” Ryoken asked.

“It’s a fifty-fifty chance, yes? I think it’ll be fine.” Kyoko said.

“Alright.” Ryoken shrugged.

“So, names, yes? What about Taro? That’s a good name, right?” Aso interrupted.

“Naw, he’s Kitty.” Ryoken said. “That’s what I was calling him earlier so he can be Kitty.”

“Well, a baby ferret is a kit. It’s not… totally inaccurate.” Kyoko said with a quirk of her brows.

Ryoken beamed as he played with Kitty’s face. Feeling up the fat along his jowls and through his fur. He had a rather unamused look in his pale blue eyes. A look which could cause one to ponder if he didn’t appreciate his name, but it was a look that Ryoken, of course, didn’t notice. Still, it was the beginning of a rather beautiful friendship between them.

With Kitty inducted as a new, full-time member of the Kogami residence, it was time for lunch. Aso fixed them some sandwiches with cold meats and salad. He wasn’t certain what to feed Kitty, but Kitty happily ate ham and chicken offcuts, but it was probably not enough for a critter his size. Regardless, lunch was nice. Ryoken found it especially delicious after not having anything proper to eat in so long and he had a grand time recounting his and Kitty’s adventures in the mountain. Needless to say, the adults had some conflicted feelings about the stories that Ryoken told. It sounded all very harrowing to them.

After lunch, Ryoken put himself to bed. After all the walking around, and having to sleep in less than ideal conditions, he was plumb tuckered out and had only truly realised it after sitting down at the table. He wasn’t the only one. Kitty was twice as tired he.

Ryoken piled into bed. He pulled up the sheets and cuddled in. On his side, he looked out over the edge. On the floor, Kitty tiredly looked up. Ryoken patted the edge of his downy mattress. He made kissy noises at Kitty who blinked slowly, confusedly.

“C’mon, Kitty…” Ryoken groaned.

So, he reached over the edge and grabbed Kitty by the back of his neck. Ryoken was surprised that Kitty’s scruff could be so easily grabbed. So, Ryoken tugged at Kitty’s thick wad of fur and fat but felt bad doing so. Also, Kitty was stupid heavy but eventually he got the point. Ryoken was attempting to hoist him up so Kitty reared onto his hindlegs; his forepaws propped up on the mattress. His tail end wiggled a little bit before he leapt up. He crashed into Ryoken, trampling all over him again, poking and prodding him accidentally.

Ryoken laughed as he and Kitty squirmed around in bed. Eventually, they settled. For all intents and purposes, they were spooning. Ryoken held onto Kitty at his midsection, nuzzling against his back and latching onto him with drowsy endearment. Kitty, meanwhile, had stretched out as far as he could beside Ryoken, looking as up and down as he could. He fell asleep quite quickly whereas Ryoken took a bit more time.

Their nap together turned into the best sleep that Ryoken had in days. For the first time in a long, long time, he dreamt. He dreamt of a field of blue flowers by the seaside. He dreamt of walking through them and it was a wonderful dream with fluffy white clouds overhead.

When he woke, he woke happy. He smiled and his heart skipped a beat. He was still holding onto – hugging – Kitty. He shuffled in closer and rubbed his face over Kitty’s hackles and shoulders. Kitty chattered pleasantly but still sounded half asleep, if not fully.

“I love you, Kitty…” Ryoken murmured.

A little while later, Ryoken got out of bed. He opened the window and the storm had passed. The skies were completely clear of clouds and rain. The ground was not so lucky. Grass was drenched and dirt had turned to large, muddy puddles. The garden looked completely downtrodden in the wake of it but no doubt, it would all return greener and more vivid. The thought made Ryoken extremely happy; doubly so when he realised that he would later be allowed to play in the garden with Kitty. The thought of running around and teaching Kitty to play games or do tricks excited Ryoken.

Still, for now, Kitty slept, and the wet garden was not habitable for little boys who were freshly clean, more or less. So, Ryoken wandered out of his room. He walked downstairs and was met in the kitchen again. He swallowed.

Things looked slightly – a lot – different than what they had over lunch so Ryoken continued hesitantly. Kyoko was sobbing at the table; head between her arms, her back moving up and down, her whole body wrenching out each sob. Aso sat next to her, crowding over her protectively and trying to soothe her by whispering things that Ryoken couldn’t hear into her ear. Meanwhile, Genome was poring over various sheets of paper, most of which looked decorative and ornate.

“Is…” Ryoken began and he started to fidget with his hands in front of him. “Is everything alright?”

“The… The funeral planners visited, and we were able to sort out everything we were unable to earlier.” Aso said.

Kyoko pulled herself off the table. Out of the three of them, she was the most visibly upset but as Ryoken studied her appearance, unable to do anything in this moment in which time slowed down, he noticed that all his carers looked worse for wear. Red eyes, stiff bodies, grief exuding from them no different to blood, sweat, or tears. It made his tummy sick.

“The funeral will be the day after tomorrow.” Genome piped up, most likely over his own thoughts, he sighed as he put down the papers.

“Sunday, huh?” Ryoken murmured. He hiccupped and his fingers twitched; his eyes watered again. “Where will it be?”

“At the cemetery.” Kyoko replied.

“Your father asked for a no-frills cremation.” Genome added. “So, it’ll just be saying our goodbyes, I suppose.”

“O-Oh.” Ryoken murmured.

“Genome…” Kyoko hissed.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coping.” Genome all but snapped back.

“Can Kitty come?” Ryoken piped up, afraid that Kyoko and Genome’s bickering might escalate and for some reason, that terrified him to stone and back.

“No, Ryoken, Kitty can’t come.” Aso said, tiredly.

“Oh. Okay… That’s okay…” Ryoken murmured.

“Do you want anything, Ryoken, dear? A drink of water? Or maybe warm milk? I could go for a drink too, if you want anything.” Kyoko said, continuing to diffuse the situation which seemed to be scattered in hay and needles, perhaps gunpowder too.

“Water sounds fine, please…” Ryoken murmured. “But can – can I go back to my room and drink it there? I need some alone time…”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ryoken.” Kyoko fussed.

She got up and Aso’s arm slipped from around her. She paced around the kitchen, as though she had forgotten where things were supposed to be, but she was able to fix herself and Ryoken a drink of water each. She handed Ryoken a little cup over and he held onto it carefully. He then slunk back upstairs whilst she returned to mourning with her fellows at the table. As Ryoken left, when he got perhaps a little more than halfway up the stairs, he could hear Aso talk, his voice a murmurous rumble, but then it cracked. Soon enough, Ryoken heard the rather restrained sobs of Aso and Genome too, not just Kyoko’s.

Ryoken returned to his bedroom. It was a rather simple room; a bed, some drawers to keep his clothes in, a desk to study at, a bookshelf, and one more shelf with miscellaneous items of his stacked along it. It felt bigger and emptier than it had perhaps been a year or two ago. He stepped quietly towards his bed and sat down on it. He was careful not to disturb Kitty, but Kitty noticed him anyway.

With a strange, half-formed noise, Kitty announced that he was awake. He lifted his head and then wriggled over. His body twisted around strangely; one section of his belly was face up whilst his head remained pointed towards Ryoken, but his back legs were pointed to the left; an entirely different direction.

Ryoken placed his hand idly on Kitty. “I miss my Dad, Kitty, but I’m glad you never met him. He would’ve chopped you up into bits, I think. I don’t want you chopped up into bits.” he murmured.

Kitty replied with mumbled noises but Ryoken didn’t mind. He imagined his own reply in Kitty’s voice and that was more than enough to relieve himself of some of the mixed feelings he had between the love and grief that he had unto his father.

Kitty moved around again. This time, the back end of his body swung onto Ryoken’s lap and his upper half twisted around so that he could face Ryoken. So, for all intents and purposes, ryoken was being sat on. Kitty was quite heavy, but he didn’t mind. His weight was weirdly grounding. Kitty nudged at Ryoken’s face and Ryoken forced a half smile.

The following day was difficult. Aside from the obvious regarding the death in the family, there were also the new challenges presented to them through Kitty. Kitty was, somewhat unsurprisingly in hindsight given his likeness to the more miniature breeds of mustelids, was crepuscular and he required plenty of feeding. So, Kitty got everyone up at dawn, just to inform everyone of that. Then there were the messes which Kitty had made.

Just as Kitty had been inducted into the house as a member of the family inhabiting the mansion, Kitty had inducted the other members of the household as being a member of his den. He had chosen places around the mansion – Ryoken’s door, the stairs, the bottom cabinets of the kitchen, and a few other places – and had sprayed them, it seemed. The urine marks seemed more consistent with that than if he had simply sprung a leak in odd places. Still, Kitty was very much scolded by Aso when Ryoken had politely, and rather nervously, informed him that there was a peculiar wet patch and odour clinging to his door.

Still, in its own bizarre way, it was a good sign. It meant that this more or less feral creature was intent on staying. After all, it would probably break Ryoken’s heart if his darling Kitty were to disappear on him too after a hunt. Something he did not do when given permission to go and fetch his own breakfast given that the house didn’t have anything in the proportions he required. Though, it was again to Aso’s chagrin as it was his job to clean up Kitty’s various messes. Though, blood was more palatable than urine, he found. Aso just wished that Kitty had eaten his kill – a fawn, of all things – in the kitchen, where it was tiled rather than on the living room carpet.

The extra time in the morning later gave them an unexpected bonus. After all, with Dr. Kogami’s funeral tomorrow, they needed to spruce up their own wardrobes. Kyoko had Ryoken fitted for a new outfit: all black, appropriate for a funeral. She, herself, also had some repairs done to an old black dress that she owned as well with the tailor she organised yesterday. The grown gents of the household were simply going through with basic suits, but they did purchase some new, and matching, black ties for the event.

However, whilst Kyoko and, inadvertently, the tailor kept Ryoken busy, Aso and Genome busied themselves with taking notes on Kitty. Something which they couldn’t really do with Ryoken around since he distracted the creature something awful. Though, in the hour or so given to them, they weren’t able to do much more than assess Kitty’s dentals – and confirm his manhood, too.

A process which turned into a two-for-one as Kitty did not like having his juvenile testes and penis fondled by weird human men. So, he bit them both quite harshly with all thirty-odd of his teeth – or so it felt to Aso who had to bandage himself whilst Genome laughed, relatively unscathed. That, in turn, became a conversation about whether or not it was helpful to have the creature castrated, or perhaps vasectomised, and de-scented. After all, such things were supposed to reduce spraying and stenches in normal, domestic ferrets, why wouldn’t it extend to Kitty’s species as well? Though, ultimately, they decided that Kitty was probably too young for either operation to be healthy for him.

Still, it was somewhat fruitful. They gained some sort of further insight into just what Kitty was and wasn’t. Though, it was far nicer to just sit back and observe Kitty’s behaviour in adjacent to Ryoken. The two were becoming thick as thieves which was quite the astute saying since Kitty was a “little thief” due to his ferret-like morphology.

It was this amiable closeness which made it all the more difficult to separate them the next day. Something which was extremely necessary as much as it was heartbreaking. After all, Kitty’s room was supposed to be a makeshift den in the living room which they had made from some upturned wooden chairs that they didn’t use anymore and some blankets, as well as other miscellaneous things to intrigue him such as blankets and even flowers. However, all the hard work Ryoken, Aso, and Genome had put into constructing such a thing had been ultimately snubbed as Kitty much preferred to march up to Ryoken’s room, demand to be let in, and sleep with him. Something which would have been endearing, perhaps even loosely permitted, were it not for Kitty’s stench.

After all, on a day like this, it just seemed like extra stress to have to put Ryoken through the bath again because Kitty got his smell all over him whilst they shared a bed. Kitty’s smell was very distinct, and honestly borderline putrid, and Ryoken accumulated it far too easily on his body and on his clothes. At least it was a fixable problem; some hot soapy water and they were both right as rain but there was only enough time, and willpower, to put Ryoken through.

Once he got into his all prettily done up black clothes, the gravity of the situation hit Ryoken. Kyoko and Aso took him by the hand, led him out of the mansion whilst Genome locked Kitty up inside. Kitty whined and hissed. Genome hissed back, kicking back gently whilst the door finally slammed shut. Kitty was determined to come with them but Ryoken’s guts twisted. As much as he would appreciate the companionship, he appreciated the image of not having to introduce what remained of his father to his new friend. The thought of Kitty being turned to blood and bits was too much for him to handle so he started to cry again even though it was impossible now. Regardless, the four of them moved on from the mansion.

Despite it having rained a couple of days ago, it was a very dry midday at the cemetery. The walk had been unbearable. Not in that it was long or particularly arduous, just unbearable in that there wasn’t much more to do, yet, than exchange tissues and whisper words of encouragement through this trying time. But such shallowness did change when they arrived not just at the cemetery, dry but now bright and flowering quite nicely thanks to the fresh rain. Here, before this new marker in amongst others belonging to family members no one knew, did Ryoken and his carers feel the impact of grief far more differently.

Now, it felt as though it all had meaning. Depth. But such feelings were an illusion. All they truly had was their memories, their mixed thoughts. The good times; the bad times; the in between times and neither times, as well. They said their prayers before a newly erected gravestone with the name Kiyoshi Kogami on it and a few other bits and pieces about him which were relevant to him in his death. It seemed pointless to give such a new and beautiful piece of granite and marble and wire a once over to clean it, but they did anyway.

In their gestures, their eyes dried whilst their hands wettened. They had, for now anyway, shed the last of their tears. Of the deaths this man could have had, some of them thought, not all of them as not all of them, Ryoken, were lucid to the exact details of his death, this one was the cruellest. The one which hurt the most. It wasn’t a lethal injection or a heart attack. It was something else: a judgement passed on from society. Callousness for the callous; something unethical for the unethical. But it mattered for naught. He was just ashes now and an obelisk to remember him by.

“Let’s go to the wake, shall we?” Aso suggested.

“I want to go home.” Ryoken said.

“It’s in poor taste, dear. We mourn and now we celebrate, yes? To remember the man who once was now that we’ve cried over and over, praying for his afterlife or lack thereof…” Kyoko said.

“Can you promise not to be too long…?” Ryoken said. “I’m tired…”

“A few drinks, no more than two each.” Genome said.

“Awright…” Ryoken mumbled, rubbing at his sore eyes.

The wake was held at a licenced café which regarded their presence, all dressed in black and with bleary eyes, with great suspicion but ultimately granted them patronage. There, they ate a hot meal with cheap drinks; something sugary for Ryoken, something alcoholic for Aso, Genome, and Kyoko. Their food and beverages were quite tasteless, it seemed. Nothing held flavour; not even the red and sparkly concoction of lemonade with raspberry cordial that Ryoken was given. The alcohol was even blander, but it all did its job regardless. It filled their bellies, even if it was just superficially.

Ryoken was surprised by how quick the adults around him had been to eat their meal and drink their drinks. He had pecked through his food and he mostly crunched down on the ice in his drink, but they had eaten everything plated before them. Then, they didn’t even ask for seconds on their various boozes. They simply hailed over the waiter and paid. They all looked rather tired in their own unique ways; Kyoko’s eyes were bleary behind her saccharine smile, Aso held his forehead which throbbed with visible veins, and Genome was grumpier and more irritable than usual by saying things he probably didn’t mean.

So, the three of them took Ryoken home. There, Ryoken – and actually, they all were – were surprised to discover that Kitty hadn’t made a mess of things. When they opened the front door, the mansion was quiet as they crept through the threshold yet not a single thing was out of place. There also wasn’t an odour in the air to indicate messes, urination and otherwise, either.

They, naturally, found Kitty in Ryoken’s bed. Ryoken smiled and climbed in with him. He curled up against him and Kitty clucked softly in acknowledgement. Aso half smiled. Kids and pets were a cute combination when they wanted to be, so they left Ryoken alone. He probably needed the time away from them, anyway. So, he and the other two returned downstairs where they could find some harder liquors to drink and mix in peace.

Ryoken smiled. “I love you, Kitty. Thanks for being here for me.”

Kitty purred his ferret purr. His voice rumbled in his throat and Ryoken liked that sound. It was as warm as it was coarse in that distinctly bestial and Kitty way.

“I wish I could understand you, proper, Kitty. I want to know how you feel about me…” Ryoken murmured. “Genome told me it’s not true, but I just know that you can understand me. Maybe even speak.”

Kitty hiccupped.

“Yeah. Genome’s a meanie.” Ryoken murmured.

He cuddled in and yawned. Today had been exhausting. He could go for a nap…

The days which passed following the funeral became bit by bit, a little less exhausting. Soon, it was a half distant memory but deep down, Ryoken knew that he would always remember the sun glinted off his father’s headstone. He would remember his tears, and snot too. He’d remember those little bits and pieces; just as much as he would remember all which came to pass long before it; even though eight years, even to a boy of eight years, wasn’t all that long of a time in scale.

But despite these memories, playing a fine line between dream and reality. In his prayers, Ryoken had promised to visit his father at least half a week and in his resolve, he had managed to fulfil such a vow. Every Saturday, or at least Sunday. So far, he had to visit every time with at least one of his carers in tow, but he looked forward to the time when he could make the pilgrimage alone. Or, better yet, with Kitty in tow as well. But, for now, Ryoken was a prisoner to his carers thanks to his disobedience from a while ago. Still, a new domesticity was emerging.

Amid that domesticity, Ryoken was becoming more and more enamoured with his monstrous ferret of a companion. True, he could be a touch surreptitious and grumpy here and there thanks to his sleeping schedule which was incompatible with Ryoken given that humans were diurnal and he was crepuscular but he was certainly open to the idea of playing at what he thought to be a strange hour of the day, like in the mid-morning or mid-afternoon.

He and Ryoken still had plenty of fun, chasing each other in the backyard, playing fetch and the like. Or even doing quiet activities together, Kitty seemed to be quite fond of napping next to Ryoken whilst he played on the floor with his papers and crayons. Ryoken had even taken to reading Kitty different books; picture books, textbooks, anything he could get his hands on really. And what was spectacular about that, was the commitment to believing that Kitty could reciprocate every word that he read aloud to him.

Sure, Kitty had his challenges. After all, he still very much enjoyed spraying Ryoken’s door specifically, out of all the places in the mansion, and he liked to drag his kills through the house, getting blood everywhere, but he was still a very good companion to young Ryoken. They were truly good for each other, in the wake of everything that had happened.

One way or another, Kitty was truly a member of the household, even joining the humans at the table now. He was rather polite, watching everyone eat, hoping for scraps. He would rest his nose on the table, staring longingly down it, watching them eat. It had become a part of that emerging domesticity no different to him being invited to bed with Ryoken or what have you.

Aso smiled as he brought four plates of food around. They were approaching winter now, so the food was getting heartier-looking and the nights were growing colder, longer. He smiled though. He was a winter man; he liked putting more clothes on to shut out the cold, he liked putting logs in the fire. That sort of thing.

“There you go, Ryoken.” he said, placing the final plate in front of Ryoken – and, adjacent to Kitty who had that begging look in his eyes.

“Thank you, Aso.” Ryoken chirruped.

“None for you, Kitty, I’m afraid. Human food isn’t good for your gullet.” Aso said.

Kitty spat in defiance; Ryoken laughed. After all, all three of them knew that hadn’t stopped Kitty in the past from eating human food. Ryoken liked to feed him the bits and pieces from his plate that he didn’t like such as meat, which was too grizzled or icky fatty bits. Sometimes vegetables that Ryoken didn’t want to eat either.

Aso seated himself. He smiled down at his plate and then glanced around the table. The head of the table was empty; it was where the good doctor used to sit. So, he was across from Kyoko, Ryoken, and Kitty with Genome beside him. He looked up.

“Thank you,” he began quickly enough, the others chimed in with him: “for this meal.”

One, two, three, four, five voices.

Everyone stopped.

“Did anyone else…?” Aso began, too stunned to fully articulate himself.

Genome swallowed. “It was a crackly sort of voice, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, scratchy. Young, too. Like… Like a child’s…” Kyoko continued. She frowned. “Ryoken, are you playing games?”

“Nope.” Ryoken shook his head and he quickly fished out a piece of chicken from his bowl.

He dangled it in front of Kitty’s face. Kitty watched it with ravenous eyes. He licked along his jowls, drooled too. He lunged at Ryoken’s fingers but fortunately, Ryoken was quicker. He yanked it away from Kitty who snapped at nothing.

“Kitty. Speak.” Ryoken said. “Do it for a piece of chicken.”

“No.” Kitty retorted.

He lunged at Ryoken’s fingers again and this time, Ryoken was too stunned to pull away again. Everyone was stunned. Kitty happily swallowed the bit of chicken whole. He licked at his lips happily and chittered.

“Hm. Well… this is unexpected, isn’t it?” Genome mused aloud as he recalled the times that he had shot Ryoken down upon being told that Kitty was totally capable of speaking, believing that he was just in a phase.

“I told you I was right.” Ryoken said, immediately taking the shot at Genome because he recalled those times too and now, he was feeling rather rightly vindicated. Then, his attention returned to Kitty: “Why didn’t you speak up sooner?”

“I didn’t know how to.” Kitty replied. “And stop calling my Kitty. I have a proper name. Mother gave me one.”

Kyoko blinked. The revelations were coming left, right, and centre now. She just wished that they had occurred after they had eaten because this was no doubt going to consume them rather than them consuming Aso’s home cooked meal.

“I’m sorry. It was rude of me not to ask you for your name then.” Ryoken said, blushing slightly. “…Well, what is it then?”

“Spectre.”

“That’s a cool name.” Ryoken half-exclaimed, half-replied simply.

“Well then, Spectre, thank you for saying grace tonight with us then.” Kyoko said.

“And your mother,” Genome said, making a vague hand gesture before reaching for the glass of water in front of him, “who is she and how did she decide on that name?”

“It’s a word meaning ghost. When Mother found me, she thought I was going to die but she saved me by giving me something to drink. Thanks to her milk, I was able to survive until I could start hunting on my own.” Spectre explained.

“Ki- I mean, Spectre, dear, I’m glad you’ve finally found your voice, but this is a lot to take in. Can it wait until after dinner?” Kyoko asked.

“No.” Spectre replied. “It was very difficult to learn human speech… Now that I’m ready, I don’t want to stop talking until I’m finished.”

Ryoken laughed. Kyoko just got owned…

“Very well then.” Kyoko sighed, pushing aside her bowl. “You have the floor. What do you want to say?”

“I’m glad that Master Ryoken found me. Thank you…” Spectre said, and he nuzzled against Ryoken’s face. “Someone killed Mother. I was out hunting and when I got back, she was gone. She… She was just a tree trunk.”

Kyoko threw a funny – distressed – expression to Aso, who returned it with a shrug. Meanwhile, Genome was doing his very best not to laugh and Ryoken looked as though the gears in his little head were turning but he wasn’t liking the conclusion that he was coming to. But he was the one who spoke regardless.

“Your den… The one we played and slept in together… The one I made you leave so you could come here…” he said, very slowly. “Was that your mother…?”

“Yes.” Spectre replied.

His definitive reply was only one half of what made it so bizarre to Ryoken and his carers. The other half of what had made his definitive reply so bizarre was the fact that it was just mystifying to hear him speak after so many weeks of listening to his differing vocalisations and being used to those. His human speech, now that he had polished it in secret for the moment that he was ready, was quite eloquent and well-articulated, it was the fact that such noises were coming out of the furry maw of a ferret-like monster which was rather informationally disruptive.

“D-Did you, no let me try again, does your species manifest out of nowhere in the bases of trees or something?” Genome inquired, disgusted by the impossibility of the implication.

“No.” Spectre replied, his snout dropping to the table, but he seemed visibly crestfallen.

Ryoken placed his hand on Spectre’s hackles. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Yes, please…” Spectre murmured. “I… I was the runt of my litter. I believe… I believe I had five, potentially six, older siblings. My birth mother didn’t have enough milk to go around, more kits than she could feed. So, she abandoned me when she decided that I wasn’t getting any bigger whilst my siblings were. I was still deaf and blind when she abandoned me but… but I remember how cold it was. She took me from the den she had birthed and left me at the base of a tree. Maybe she thought that another would find me, or maybe a predator. She certainly didn’t think I would make a good meal… But that tree that she, perhaps, planned to bury me under, she took pity on me. She became my real mother. I chewed on her roots, drinking her milk until I found my strength. That night, I opened my eyes for the first time, and I saw it. I saw a beautiful night sky, a full moon and plenty of stars too. It was wonderful… That tree, my true Mother, kept me safe from predators and from the elements, until I was strong enough to venture out. But humans,” Spectre’s voice, once soft if a touch barky, turned to a vicious snarl, “humans killed her.”

Ryoken had been placidly stroking Spectre’s back in some effort to keep him calm but it seemed in vain now. He shivered. Spectre noticed and his blue, animalistic eyes flicked towards him and Ryoken counted the teeth he saw in Spectre’s half-open jaw. He counted a lot.

“I hate humans, but not you, Master Ryoken. I love you.” Spectre said.

He leaned across to Ryoken and licked his face. His tongue seemed scratchier than usual tonight. Ryoken, embarrassed, pushed him off. His eyes darted around the table.

“What about the Aso? Kyoko? Genome?” he asked.

“They’re okay.” Spectre said with all the verbal aplomb of a shrug.

Genome laughed raucously. He thought that was a fantastic reply. Aso and Kyoko, however, were only fractionally amused by the reply.

“…But why me? Why do you love me…?” Ryoken asked, his voice tiny and fragile.

“I tried to find my siblings, but I couldn’t. I tried to play with the humans who passed through the forest, but they tried to hurt me. You were the first human I met who didn’t throw rocks at me or come after me with sticks and weapons… You gave me a lot of fun times and more to look forward to. That’s why I love you.” Spectre said. “Now, give me food.”

Ryoken laughed. He picked out another piece of chicken from his plate even though he could feel scolding eyes on him. He let Spectre lick over his fingers as he chomped at it as carefully as he could.

“Well… That seems settled. So, who wants their food reheated?” Aso asked.

“Oh, yes please.” Genome said, immediately jumping at the question.

Spectre licked his chops at that, and it was difficult to say “no” to him before when his only weapon were his darned puppy dog eyes. Now that he could actually talk, it was going to be a lot harder to refuse him things. Though, that by the same token could be a good thing as before, he had to bite and scratch to argue, now that he had words, maybe they could come out of disagreements without wounds which required minor treatment.

Still, out of the peculiarity of Spectre’s newly found ability to talk, they managed to find a renewed emerging normalcy in it. A certain domesticity that was known only to them: the five members of the Kogami household and mansion. These days of finding things to do – work, schooling, hunting, and more – tumbled into weeks and they became months. Months later became years. And all through it, Ryoken’s silent vow remained strong. Once a week, sometimes more, he would visit his father but not once did he bring Spectre along. Though, in hindsight, Ryoken thinks that these visits, especially the ones where he was permitted to go by himself, were the hallmarks of growing up and getting older.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting older was strange. There wasn’t truly any one moment wherein anyone felt bigger or older. Ryoken went from a child to an adolescent until he was eventually crowned a young adult. His carers remained adults, but they graduated from the role set upon them by Dr. Kogami’s will, though they never moved out and they remained in good fondness of Ryoken – and of course, Spectre too. As for Spectre, there had been a point wherein they wondered if he would ever stop growing and getting bigger but fortunately, he did stop. His voice deepened and they got used to the sight of human words being emitted from a decidedly non-human source.

He truly was good for Ryoken. They were good for each other, really. Probably because they were the only ones who could tolerate the other’s smell.

Ryoken had grown into a handsome young man with sharp eyes and good looks. He had a slim face and a nice body. He was somewhat tall, too. Though, like all young men, he did carry that unique, testosterone odour on him. Something he hid quite well with various soaps and perfumes, so long as he wasn’t hanging around his dearest companion.

Meanwhile, Spectre had grown into an utter monster of a thing. He was just able to fit through most doorways without having to duck, height-wise and as for lengthwise, he was in unnecessary possession of far too many metres but fortunately, he had thinned out. He had lost some of his baby weight though, that didn’t make it less janky looking when he moved about, especially at high velocities. And aside from growing in terms of proportions, that ferret musk that he carried in his rich fur had only grown as well over the years and no amount of desensitisation was going to do anything about that; unless one was Ryoken. His den was positively off-limits to anyone human.

Yes, Spectre had been given a better den. Once he had outgrown the one that had been provided for him in the living room – and once his stench strengthened – he had been given a room all to himself. He had been absolutely delighted to have been given a room all of his own.

Ryoken had helped him decorate it to his particulars; the windows were sealed up and the door was refurbished so he could open it easily with his paws or snout. It was decorated with all his favourite things, as well: plastic plants and anything that he had found and decided was fair game. He had something of a fixation on stealing things but so long as no one came looking for the things he took, he was permitted to keep his little trinkets. Though, they doubted that anyone would come after things that he had stolen given that he was a giant ferret of a thing. He liked to take things like unusually smooth rocks and wildflowers for bouquets but also things that brought him comfort. He liked to take teddy bears which had been long lost on picnics, he liked to take blankets and sheets too. Though, he had never taken to taking things such as articles of clothing save for socks. He had a peculiar obsession which he vehemently downplayed when it came to socks. 

His room was his inner sanctum away from his humans. He liked them, these four at least, but they were still humans and he had great distaste for humans in general. He rarely peacefully interacted with strangers who drew in close to the mansion for one reason or another and the like. So, it was no wonder that Spectre happily spent his time away from Ryoken, sleeping in his room, with his pillows and blankets and plants. It was his time to recharge between dawn and dusk, the hours he preferred to be active at the continuing and persistent dislike of the humans who were decidedly diurnal.

Still, Ryoken was growing worried for Spectre’s welfare as his sleeping patterns had somewhat changed. It was getting towards the end of January now, but he had been like this for a couple weeks now; since the last week of December. At first, Ryoken hadn’t thought much of it. It wasn’t uncommon, in the past, for Spectre to feel sleepier and the like now that winter had set in. After all, his instincts were telling him to put on weight and conserve energy because food was going to be scarce soon; something which was at a conflict given the fact that Ryoken and the others were more than happy to feed him but this was a steep withdrawal from their daily lives. He had barely ventured out at all around New Year’s Eve. He generally made an attempt to socialise a lot around then because, against what Spectre called his better judgement, he found the sparklers amusing and he enjoyed the revelry in general because it meant foods not only unusual to him, but to the humans as well.

But this absolute shut down of socialisation was completely unlike him. He was only leaving his room before dawn so he could go out and feed himself. He wasn’t even bringing back his kills; he was eating them where he hunted them. Then, he would return home and seal himself in his room, fully ignoring dusk or anything else which might tempt him out of his threshold.

So, Ryoken was worried. He felt awful and he didn’t know why because Spectre was especially stoic regarding his health. When he had been little more than a kit, in that period from before he had learned to speak with human tongues, Ryoken recalled that if Spectre had a burr or thorn in his paw, he wouldn’t let it show. He would only relinquish himself to pain, even minor pain, if Ryoken had discovered it first. And that usually happened by luck or accident. Then, later, when he had learned to speak, a few years after that, he had become troubled with influenza and he had refused to divulge that he was even a little bit sick. That had been concerning since that saw a decrease in Spectre’s appetite and other habits, but it had been quickly resolved, all things considered.

But this was absolutely worse than any of those times. Ryoken had left it at first. He wanted to give Spectre his privacy if he was going through some sort of illness; especially if it came with even the faintest possibility of being contagious even to humans but as time progressed, the feeling that something was drastically wrong became unshakeable. It became a constant fear in the back of Ryoken’s mind and manifested like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

So, it was time to take a stand. Ryoken sent his carers – assistants now, given the fact that they wanted to continue Dr. Kogami’s research but on a much more ethical basis – on a quest to find every type of ferret medicine that they could. They would inject Spectre full of antibiotics by force, if necessary. He, meanwhile, was going to get to the bottom of it, hopefully through dialogue but he had his doubts.

Thus, he stood in front of Spectre’s door. It had claw marks all over it, front and back, and for a second, Ryoken recalled all the work it had taken to modify it so that Spectre could use it easily. They had re-hinged it in a way which would allow it to swing back and forth, opened by even the bluntest of movements. For a group of biologists unable to find a contractor that wasn’t scared of being gored by a giant ferret, it had been a hard task to modify but they had accomplished such a revision of the door regardless. Still, Ryoken screwed his nose up at the memory he had pointlessly recalled as he stared down those claw marks. He steeled himself. He knocked twice.

“Spectre?” he called out.

“Go away, Master Ryoken.” Spectre snarled.

“Are you sick? Do you need something? You can rely on us, if you’re feeling unwell, we care about you.” Ryoken said, his voice full and loud so that it could convey against the distance.

There was a silence and then a hacking, wheezing noise. Ryoken’s brow twitched. It didn’t sound like Spectre was in pain. At least not any non-ironic and sardonic pain. He sounded like he was laughing a deep and sarcastic laugh.

“Please, Spectre?” Ryoken piped up again.

“I’m fine, Master Ryoken, I just require a bit more alone time.” Spectre snapped.

“…You’re not… dying, are you?” Ryoken asked, as loud as he was uncertain and yet scared of that possibility. “I mean… you’ve lived longer than most domestic ferrets, but we don’t actually know the average lifespan for your specific species. You’re not like… trying to get ready for that, are you?”

Ryoken’s voice cracked. His eyes watered. At the very youngest, Spectre was at least twelve. He didn’t have much of a way of tracking time but at the very youngest, he had been two years old when Ryoken had fatefully encountered him the forest as a child.

Spectre laughed again. “Master Ryoken,” he began, there was a pained bitterness in his voice, some great joke that only he was in on, “I can assure you I am not dying. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m in the springtime of my youth and I hate it.”

“What?” Ryoken said. He knocked on the door again. “Spectre, I’m asking for permission one last time, but please let me inside. I want to speak with you, face to face.”

“And for your own safety, I will deny your request for entry.” Spectre replied.

“I don’t care, I’m coming in.” Ryoken said, his voice quickened.

He shoved his shoulder against the door and as he expected, he was met with great resistance. It felt as though all of Spectre’s body had been thrown against the door in rebellion of Ryoken’s concern. But something changed. It was like Spectre had, despite himself, given up. The weight lifted and Ryoken managed to come inside.

Ryoken stumbled slightly and he breathed deeply. Even with the door open, the stench of Spectre’s room was putrid. His musk permeated the air and walls, all draped in darkness thanks to the sealed window. Ryoken considered himself somewhat immune to Spectre’s smell but this was ridiculous. It assailed him, even made his eyes water and nose twitch. A surge of heat went through him as well, most curious of all.

Spectre tried to put distance between himself and Ryoken. He tried to make himself small. His rump lifted against the wall as he tried to flatten himself against it. His hackles were raised defensively as he glared at Ryoken.

“Master Ryoken, I implore you, leave now.” Spectre whimpered; he looked afraid, or perhaps embarrassed. It was difficult to assign him emotions given his bestial appearance.

“Why?” Ryoken asked, cuttingly, frowning.

Spectre cast his forward glare aside, “…I’m rutting.” he confessed.

“…Rutting?” Ryoken echoed.

All his fears and concerns for Spectre’s welfare were all but cast aside. He had gotten it into his head that his companion was dying or something. But this… this hadn’t exactly been on the cards. So, Ryoken hesitated. He swallowed. The word – “rutting” – felt awkward on his tongue.

“Oh…” he mumbled. He scratched behind his head. “Spectre, if you want to go out and find someone, then go right ahead. Just make sure she’s nice, yeah? And I want to be godfather to your babies. Your kits. That’s, um, that’s assuming that you get that far, of course.”

“I want to mate you.” Spectre bluntly admitted.

“Oh.” Ryoken’s eyes widened.

The room grew unbearably hot as they refused to look one another in the eyes. The smell became heavier and heavier. Ryoken swallowed. The latter, he decided, was tolerable as he tugged at his jacket.

“It never occurred to me…” Ryoken murmured. “That you would want to have sex. Let alone with me, a human.”

“I love you. I think you would be an ideal vessel for my kits.” Spectre continued.

Ryoken’s brow twitched. “Spectre, I can’t… you know that, right?”

“Irrelevant.” Spectre huffed.

His body quivered slightly. He drew it in, a tight and protective of himself. He put his nose between his forepaws.

“Now, please leave. I just – I just want to sleep it off.” Spectre said.

“When does it end?” Ryoken asked, sharp.

“My rut?” Spectre asked.

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know… I’ve never rutted before but once the days start getting longer again, I think.” Spectre murmured.

Ryoken did the math in his head based on that titbit. If it was based on photosensitivity, then Spectre had, presumably, started this hellish rut at the end of December when winter had finally made itself known in the air and weather, or just about. Hence Spectre’s self-induced isolation. That had been three-four weeks ago. It was still the thick of winter currently. If Spectre wasn’t going to get better until early to mid-spring, then that seemed to imply that he was going to keep suffering this abominable lust until at least April. April was months away. 

“Will… Would having sex alleviate your rut?” Ryoken timidly asked.

“Considering that I’ve tried self-stimulation to rid myself of this affliction, no, most likely not.” Spectre replied.

Ryoken blinked. “You did?” he said. “How?”

“Don’t be crass, Master Ryoken.” Spectre replied, sinking further into his paws in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m – was just – curious…” he mumbled.

“Fine.” Spectre huffed. “I tried autofellatio.”

Ryoken swallowed hard. He felt his blood surge as his mind immediately attempted to give him an image of how that would look like. He imagined Spectre’s head between his own hindlegs, lapping at his prick. Ryoken had seen him do it a couple of times as a measure of grooming but giving it that sexual slant made the once somewhat innocuous image became completely and utterly salacious. He blushed.

“Now, begone, Master Ryoken. I am quite fine fending for myself.” Spectre said with a sharp exhale through his nose.

“No.” Ryoken refused.

“Why?” Spectre snarled.

“Because maybe I want to be mated by you.” Ryoken said; the words boldly tumbling out before he could think.

Spectre’s spine prickled. He could feel his prick shoot out of its sheathe so he kept himself bundled up out of embarrassment for his erection.

“That’s not a funny joke, Master Ryoken.” Spectre snarled; he sounded genuinely hurt as he tried to hide himself.

“I’m not joking.” Ryoken said. “I want you to fuck me.”

Spectre’s ears pricked up. His head immediately followed; lifted quickly and with great urgency. His blue eyes, widening, ached with lust and yearning.

“I love you, Spectre. Platonically, romantically, carnally, and more.” Ryoken said.

Spectre lunged at him. His balled-up body ribboned across the air and he was more than enthusiastic in taking the consent. He pinned Ryoken through the threshold; on the floor and face to face. He licked Ryoken’s cheeks. Ryoken writhed beneath him, holding onto him and in the better light, he could see how dishevelled Spectre was. And feel it, too. He was unbelievably greasy.

Spectre’s jowls dropped to beneath Ryoken’s chin. Ryoken breathed shallowly as he felt something like fear fill him. He trusted Spectre. He knew that Spectre would be gentle with him but something like doubt clouded inside of him. After all, Spectre had sealed himself off from the outside world for Ryoken’s sake. For his safety. And with his claws, opaque but with pink underneath, on Ryoken’s chest and with his fangs so close to all his vitals, Ryokan was beginning to put more stock in Spectre’s judgement. Perhaps it hadn’t come from a place of being overly cautious.

Spectre exuded nervous energy. He panted and huffed over Ryoken’s body before finding a way to grip onto him lightly. His teeth pinched Ryoken’s neck and his claws riffled through his outerwear. Spectre dragged Ryoken back inside his den. Startled noises bobbed up and down in Ryoken’s throat as he was dragged over the hardwood flooring.

Once he had done, it seemed that Spectre was wracked with regret. He got off Ryoken and balled up again. Ryoken sighed and propped himself up. His hair was all messed up and it was lucky that he didn’t have anything more than surface nicks from being handled as he had. Though, most notably, his neck was now visibly wet, even in the low light.

“Are you okay?” Ryoken asked.

“I’m scared of hurting you.” Spectre confessed.

“Don’t be.” Ryoken said. “But, how about we turn on a light, shut the door and just do what comes naturally to us?”

“That sounds good.” Spectre replied.

Ryoken beamed and he got to his feet. Spectre impatiently watched. His body quivered. Ryoken meanwhile flicked the switch. The light crackled and he shut the door, sealing them in the stench and darkness. It took a moment, but artificial light filled the room after two or three attempts. The light was rarely turned on in here and it seemed like the glass casing of it on the ceiling was riddled with dust. Ryoken turned around and saw that Spectre had keened rather badly: his paws flexed, and his tail twitched, not to mention how his eyes had positively lit up. Ryoken curtly wondered if having the lights on was a turn on for Spectre.

“Can I mount you now?” Spectre asked, the slits of his eyes were noticeably stark.

“I’d rather fool around some more, first. Foreplay, Spectre, you know?” Ryoken replied.

“Oh, of course, Master Ryoken. That sounds fine.” Spectre rambled; he licked his jowls. “And what constitutes as foreplay for you? Because I very much want to bite your neck and drag you around the room and then mount you, right now.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I’m worried it’ll result in a broken neck or something for me.” Ryoken replied.

“Yes, I know…” Spectre murmured.

“Let’s start a bit smaller, yeah? I know, I’ll give you a hand-job.” Ryoken suggested. “Or a blowjob, if you prefer.”

“Very well then.” Spectre said.

Spectre took to the middle of the room. He laid down where all his pillows and the like were. He took a moment to get comfortable before contorting in ways Ryoken considered highly unnatural and requiring great elasticity. Spectre huffed and invited Ryoken closer. Ryoken was all too pleased to draw in closer.

Ryoken got down onto his knees, and Spectre was more than happy to show off his prick to Ryoken. Spectre writhed and twisted around. His long body made it difficult for them both to manoeuvre, but his flexibility was ultimately enticing. Spectre looked all too proud as his erect prick emerged from its sheathe. Ryoken licked his lips. Spectre swung himself around so that Ryoken wouldn’t have to move.

Ryoken placed a hand on the base of Spectre’s sheathe. The guard hairs were quite thick here. He moved through, disturbing the ruff and Spectre cooed. His toes flexed and he moved his head around a little bit. Even a small touch had a great effect on him, it seemed. Ryoken took heart in that as he continued to muss up Spectre’s sheathe. He ran his hands up and down Spectre’s protected length. Then, he bent over.

Spectre’s sheathe was about the length of Ryoken’s forearm but his prick itself was slightly shorter. Fatter, too, though. Moreover, his cockhead had an unusual shape to it. It was flabby and had the appearance of a bended arrowhead. It was a bright pink and very fleshy but when Ryoken touched it, he discovered that it was rather soft on the sides. Its middle was far harder. Confusion muddled his facial expression as he tried to ascertain the true depths of Spectre’s lust. After all, he had been chomping at the bit for a piece of action for weeks now yet to Ryoken’s perceptions, he still seemed quite flaccid. His facial expression gave no hint as he seemed greatly enthusiastic and looking forward to his hand-job judging by how lit up his eyes were and how his tongue lolled.

Still, Ryoken gave it a good pump despite his reservations. His hand grasped along the base of it. Spectre’s prick was slightly bigger around the middle than the whole of his hand but even just grabbing him by it seemed to have him a thrall. Ryoken smiled to himself as he tried to jerk Spectre off. Spectre made harsh clucking noises and bucked his hips. The tip of his prick reddened and throbbed as Ryoken played with it as such.

Once Ryoken had gotten used to Spectre’s uncomfortably fleshy appendage with his hands, he decided to give it a chance with his mouth and tongue. He leaned over and with some handling, he was able to align the tip with his mouth. He gave the middle ridges – the corona, he supposed – a kiss. Just as he semi-feared, Spectre felt equally, if not worse, as fleshy on his lips when on his skin but he deepened said kiss regardless. He tongued those ridges before attempting to stuff it in his mouth.

Really, it was no different to a tongue, Ryoken figured as he managed to get at least part of Spectre’s large and unusually shaped cockhead into his mouth. He alternated between sucking on it and licking the underside. The taste of it was salty and he could swear that he felt stray hairs in his mouth, but he tried not to mind as he continued to play with Spectre’s sheathe with his hands.

Spectre pleasurably writhed as he did so. His prick didn’t harden in a traditional way but Ryoken was more than certain that Spectre was highly aroused from the motions that he was going through. Spectre’s tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, between his jagged teeth, and he chittered at a low vibration which Ryoken could feel reverberate along his sternum and feel it atop his pelvis. It made him smile. It wasn’t the most melodic or musical noise, but it was certainly one which made his skin warm underneath his collar.

“This is nice.” Spectre told him when Ryoken drew back, panting slightly.

“Let me try something else then. Tell me if you like it.” Ryoken said.

Ryoken got up and repositioned himself. This time, he planted himself between Spectre’s hindlegs. He straddled Spectre’s thick tail. Here, Ryoken was assaulted by the full of Spectre’s odious scent. Really, he should have reviled such an abrasive and putrid musk but instead, it made him lick his lips eagerly. His brows twinged even though his nose twitched disgustedly. His cock hardened between his legs as Ryoken placed his hands either side of the inner of Spectre’s thighs; where they connected in plump arcs from his pelvis, framing his prick, testicles and anus rather nicely, all things considered. Ryoken bent down from this position.

He licked Spectre’s scent glands. They were adjacent to his testicles, firm, and just near the rim of his anus which was rather diamond-like in shape, though quite rounded. Here, his skin was more exposed beneath his fur; his fur was also thinner and wirier. Still, Ryoken licked over the glands. The taste was foul, logically, yet Ryoken revelled in it, hair, oils, musk and all. He was genuinely, perhaps even disgustingly, enthusiastic over it.

Then, Ryoken moved on from Spectre’s glands to his actual rim. He kissed and nibbled along before he tongued along the inside, gradually moving closer and closer to the inner of it. Though, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was repeating if it’s safe for Spectre to do so, it was safe for him to do so as some sort of unsexy mantra but for now, he tried not to pay his thoughts any heed as he licked at Spectre’s anus. It was definitely worth it because this was eliciting a rather pleasured response from Spectre. His torso wriggled about, but his pelvis downwards remained somewhat rigid due to his ultimate length. Ryoken mapped Spectre’s ridges whilst listening to him laugh. It was a grating, barky noise.

“Humans are so dirty!” he squealed.

Ryoken rolled his eyes as he drew back; he paused to natter over the taste which remained on his tongue before saying: “I’ve seen you lick your dick and balls, ass too. Why’s it any different if I do it?”

“It’s dirty because humans don’t do it.” Spectre attempted to explain but his tail and hind legs began to thump against the floor, sending shockwaves through Ryoken. “Like, you don’t lick yourselves clean, yet you’ll tongue fuck each other. And you’ve never let me properly groom you despite my better efforts… It’s filthy.”

Ryoken’s tongue plunged further beyond Spectre’s rim again. Spectre made loud, obscene noises as he revelled in the feeling of having Ryoken’s soft, velvety tongue inside of him. His hind legs thumped and thumped until he couldn’t take it more. A highly electric and aroused vocalisation followed; it was both a bark and chirrup. It sent shivers down Ryoken’s spine, so he stopped and drew back. He felt nervous but certain about what he wanted to do next.

He fiddled with his trousers, dropping them slightly and he grabbed his cock, “Do you want me to fuck you in a different way?”

Spectre hissed irritably as he drew up. It took him a second go and he sat up and looked annoyedly down at Ryoken. His ears flattened to his head. His tongue’s tip remained slightly poking out of his mouth, though rather to the side, it poked through the middle, so he looked more cute than threatening – or threatened, for that matter. He then reefed his body out from underneath Ryoken.

Ryoken bounced about slightly. Between his legs slightly hurt now as he had gotten rather comfortable sitting on Spectre’s tail as he had. But he couldn’t be annoyed. Not when he watched Spectre’s legs and lower body kick about as he did; less frequently now compared to when he had been a kit as he was “mature” now. Still, his movements were half an earnestly played out weasel war dance. Though, currently it seemed too hasty to be a full dance but more than enough to excitedly convey that Spectre was feeling something. Especially since his prick remained brightly extended forth from his sheathe.

The war dance was completed when Spectre joyfully pinned Ryoken to the ground. His lunge at him had caused him to his head but luckily, they were doing this in the mess of worn-down pillows and blankets so it probably wouldn’t leave a mark or bump. To be honest, Ryoken was too excited to care. Spectre placed a front paw on his chest, claws penetrating the thread of his clothes. Spectre ran his tongue along his jowls. His teeth were sharp and Ryoken could see his reflection in the off-white. He felt his cock twitch between his legs.

“I’m sorry, Ryoken-sama, I love you very much,” Spectre murmured, “but you, kitty, are the Jill in this relationship.”

Ryoken’s cock twitched beneath his pants. He was somewhat used to having kitty thrown around as a pet name. It had been something of an inside joke between them for a few years but Jill? That rang a bell somewhere in his head but before he could put two and two together, even in a futile attempt, he cut off his own thoughts. Spectre was quicker in starting something new.

Spectre swiped at Ryoken’s side, flipping him over to his belly. His claws hooked on Ryoken’s trousers, bringing them down off his body, all but shredding them. Though holes did ribbon through the fabric in the wake of his claws whilst Spectre’s prick extended forth from his sheathe. But he restrained himself. He could have - he wanted desperately - to take Ryoken right then and there but he remained polite. Romanceable. That’s what humans liked; that’s what he was certain his human would like despite the smack that he talked. And besides, Spectre wanted to savour the moment. Spectre salivated over Ryoken’s body.

So, Spectre licked Ryoken some more. His tongue flatly pressed against the crevices of Ryoken’s body. Then, he swiftly plunged through Ryoken’s hole. He moaned lewdly and arched his back to his lover. Spectre’s tongue was pliant though the texture was quite jarring within Ryoken’s more intimate places. Moreover, he was bold too, likely because he was accustomed to things like this which was less than a nicety. Ryoken’s rim was tight but he lapped at it vigorously regardless. Not exactly loosening or relaxing it, but certainly freeing inhibitions which were of a mental nature. Ryoken moaned again and a noise, a growl, caught in Spectre’s maw.

“Spectre,” Ryoken moaned, “don’t deny yourself. I’m tough, I can handle you at your worst.”

“I love you, Master Ryoken, I want you to have my kits.” Spectre replied as he drew back. 

Arousal hit Ryoken as hard as confusion did. His cock hardened beneath him. He wondered if this was truth or dirty talk; maybe it was both. Fortunately, he didn’t have to think too hard on the topic. Spectre attempted to mount him. He grinded the base of his body against the base of Ryoken’s body but barely any of Spectre’s mid-section even grazed against Ryoken’s back. Instead, the back of his head bumped against what was barely akin to Spectre’s sternum, giving them both – but mostly Spectre – a rather unfortunate revelation. So, in defeat, Spectre reared back and discovered that mating was going to be more difficult than he had envisioned. After all, Ryoken was a fraction of his full height and that was very much at odds with Spectre’s sexual instincts. It seemed all for naught, in his eyes at least, if Spectre couldn’t mount and secure Ryoken at the same time. He whimpered.

“Master Ryoken…” he whined. “I’m too big.”

Ryoken huffed. “You haven’t even tried to put it in yet.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Spectre cried. “How am I meant to hold you down and fuck you, if I can only do one of those things at a time? I want to do both those things! You’re too small, kitty.”

Ryoken propped himself up and he smirked. “Then we’ll have to take advantage of that.”

He kicked off his trousers from around his ankles, ridding himself of anything which might have been considered extraneous or he feared that Spectre would shred if he tried to remove it. He tore his shirt off over his head as well and grinned. Spectre eyed up his naked body; his eyes catching on Ryoken’s erect cock and hardened nipples. He purred. It was a noise which grew louder when Ryoken took his place upon Spectre.

He crawled onto Spectre’s body and positioned himself just above Spectre’s prick. He liked how the tip of it felt, ghosting against his naked backside. His prick emanated a great heat which felt nice against Ryoken’s suddenly cold skin. He held onto Spectre’s abdomen. The fur on his belly was paler than the fur on his back, Ryoken noticed but it was only a slight shift in hue. Ryoken was somewhat amused in how Spectre looked on the whole from this angle. He looked a little idiotic, truth be told. He looked cute and a touch defenceless, even though his claws and fangs were very much in view.

“Is this better?” he asked, his fingers entangling further into Spectre’s greasy fur.

“A little bit.” Spectre replied. “I can do you one better though, I think.”

Spectre bucked his hips slightly and half a laugh got stuck in Ryoken’s throat as he rode it out. But then the playfulness shifted drastically to the right, just like Spectre’s body. He masterfully contorted himself and suddenly, Ryoken was very aware that Spectre was a carnivore; a predator. And he, more likely than not, the meal; the prey. A shiver ran down his spine but not because he was cold.

Not all. Not with Spectre coiling around him as he did, all whilst keeping his tail and rump planted firmly to the ground beneath him. His torso wound around Ryoken, twice over and quite thickly, until he was very tightly constricted. Ryoken could feel the pump of blood surge through Spectre as he held onto his thick waist. His little forepaws rested nearby on the upper wind of his body as it was wrapped around Ryoken. His claws got lost in the thick of his fur which was, admittedly, something Ryoken was glad for as he didn’t want such sharp things near him.

It was incredibly warm and slightly uncomfortable being trapped within the middle of this unconventional embrace. Ryoken thought, however, he would be slightly more comfortable if Spectre was washed or something as his greasy fur felt weird against his skin. But, on the whole, being in the middle of it, was warm and strangely securing. Spectre wanted him and wanted him now, alone, and for some reason, thinking those thoughts in this tight embrace caused Ryoken’s blood to surge and his cock to harden.

Spectre’s muzzle nudged up against the back of Ryoken’s neck. Ryoken swallowed as he felt Spectre’s breath on his skin; it caused his own breath to hitch and the hairs of his back of his neck to stand on end. Spectre carefully drew forth his tongue. He licked at the epicentre of where Ryoken’s veins throbbed beside his throat. Before, his licking had been erratic and excitable, but now he seemed very goal oriented and thorough. Ryoken squirmed a little bit. Spectre was being very slight and gentle with him currently but that did little to alleviate the things he couldn’t change about his technique such as the fact that his tongue was textured coarsely.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Spectre mumbled, “but I probably will.”

Ryoken’s mouth dried. His heart thudded in his chest as Spectre reared back. He slowly opened his maw to Ryoken. Spectre aligned his mouth, wide and dripping with saliva, with Ryoken’s neck. Ryoken shivered as he felt Spectre’s teeth prick on either side of his neck and he slowly closed his mouth to Ryoken. Ryoken squirmed, panic infused the beads of sweat slid down his face as Spectre bit him. He felt Spectre hum; a noise which had a strange function. It was as though to make up for the fact that he was refusing to break skin or similar. The reverberations felt deadly inside of Ryoken’s flesh. Spectre’s tongue ran longwise around the base of Ryoken’s throat in some vain attempt to soothe him. The way he used his mouth was like a kiss rather than like anything else, but the pain betrayed such softness. Ryoken was far too aware of the fact that Spectre could decapitate him in this position.

The adrenaline was palatable and Ryoken drew his legs back. Spectre seemed unbothered by how Ryoken writhed in his embrace. Especially since Spectre drew his own legs back, mirroring Ryoken – though with different purposes in mind. Ryoken forced himself to look over the boundaries of Spectre’s body. Spectre purred.

“Oh fuck...” Ryoken mumbled, eyes widening.

“I love you, Master Ryoken.” Spectre murmured.

Ryoken watched as Spectre readied his prick. It looked even bigger from this angle and with Ryoken’s legs, more or less, either side of it. Spectre tried to make himself more compact; thereby bringing Ryoken even closer to the tip. Ryoken licked his lips but couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes were bigger than what could be possible for him to take.

“Do it,” Ryoken almost begged, “fuck me with your cock.”

“And?” Spectre purred, flicking his tongue along Ryoken’s neck as he continued to bite him.

Ryoken’s mind raced. And? He licked his lips. “And,” he began, “and f-fill me with your kits.”

He flushed. He was only saying what he knew Spectre had wanted to hear but it embarrassed Ryoken profusely regardless. But it seemed like it was the final little thing that Spectre wanted because he gave a great and awkward thrust. Ryoken mewled as he felt Spectre’s prick rocket up and attempt penetration. Ryoken panted as he felt that hot, wet thing poke and prod against him.

“Spectre…” Ryoken murmured and he twisted his head towards his lover.

The side of his face brushed up against Spectre’s. The outer coat of it was surprisingly fuzzy. Ryoken could smell his bad breath and in it, Spectre seemed intent on continuing marking Ryoken quite visibly as his. Additionally, Spectre seemed more intent on continuing his attempted penetration of Ryoken than to pay mind or heed to his seeming protests.

Spectre pounded Ryoken over and over with his prick. Ryoken took each thrust upon him, behind his balls and bizarrely gladdened that the unusual shape of Spectre’s cockhead was kind of flat rather than pointed. Thus, when the corona hit him, it was more of a broad impact rather than anything more concentrated therefore making it less painful by matter of comparison. Not that Ryoken didn’t relish the pain. It was almost like being smacked over and over and he would be lying if he said that spanking wasn’t something he was interested in. At least, that was what it was like up until Spectre finally succeeded in penetrating Ryoken, that is managing to fill him, at least partially, with the head of his prick. And it was something Ryoken, admittedly, thought Spectre wouldn’t succeed in.

But he had.

Ryoken tilted his head back as he felt Spectre’s prick further penetrate him. His legs kicked as ragged noises came through his mouth, grated and raw. Spectre relished the noises. His licking around Ryoken’s neck quickened and became more aggressive. Though, his penetrative technique seemed to weaken. He had managed to fix himself in place and it was a strange sensation for Ryoken.

His body had grown somewhat numb to the over and over impact of Spectre just pounding him. Now, he had to get used to something new. It was like he had been plugged with something and he felt Spectre’s flabby cockhead flex inside of him. He moaned. Spectre gave him a thrust and he felt that rounded tip, all balled up to fit inside him, move slightly. He panted and he felt Spectre thrust inside of him. His body was wracked with the pain of it. He howled but it petered out as Spectre continued to manically thrust him.

Spectre chittered softly. “Just a little bit more, kitty… just a little bit more.” he cooed.

Ryoken nodded. Spectre licked the back of his head and his neck. He held onto Spectre tighter. His fingers digging through the coarse, greasy fur and into the fat and skin. It didn’t seem to bother Spectre much who kissed him tenderly as he gave another thrust.

“Spectre…?” Ryoken murmured, his eyes were bleary as he was getting used to the bizarre sensation of Spectre’s prick inside of him. It was bigger than things which, even then, were barely meant to be inside him. “A-Are you… Have you knotted me?”

“Knotted you?” Spectre asked, his voice was raucous. “No, Master Ryoken, I’m afraid not. I haven’t got a knot at all. I hope I haven’t disappointed you too much.”

“Oh…” Ryoken murmured. “It just feels weird, is all. A lot of pressure.”

“It took me a little longer than I would have liked, yes. I’m very big and you are very small. Not to mention, I’m far too focused on your pretty little head. Now, tell me, what’s going on in there? Why are you asking if I have a knot?” Spectre murmured and he licked the side of Ryoken’s face again.

Ryoken’s nose screwed up. Spectre thrust into him again. His legs were bucking more and more as he moved prick. It barely moved inside of him.

“I might’ve… I might’ve thought – hoped – once in a while that you might’ve had a knot down there. Once or twice.” Ryoken rambled.

“You’re insinuating that you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my penis, kitty.” Spectre purred.

“Does knowing that turn you on?” asked Ryoken in turn.

“A little bit, yes.” Spectre cooed.

“Well, I told you. I love you. In a lot of different ways. Including with my dick.” Ryoken murmured. “I might’ve fantasied a few times about you fucking me. But I’ll be honest. I always thought I was the pet in the relationship; you might call me ‘master’ but, well, I’ve met cat people. Never thought that you’d give me a shot… I mean… the mailman hasn’t even visited in over ten years since you’ve moved in. And same for anyone else. They’re scared of you – and for good reason, mind you. You hate most humans; you fondly tolerate the assistants at best…”

“But I do love you.” Spectre said; his voice twisted into a grunt.

Ryoken panted. “I know. And I love you too. A whole lot.”

“Thank you, kitty.” Spectre murmured.

Spectre’s mouth moved over Ryoken’s neck. His nose nudged about and Ryoken took a breath and it was like a faucet had been turned on. He moaned and Spectre revelled in the noise. His ears twitched and so did his scratchy whiskers.

“A-Are you coming?” Ryoken panted.

“No?” Spectre replied. He sounded a touch puzzled. “I’m ejaculating, if that’s what you mean but not coming. Too soon for that, kitty.”

“I don’t understand, did you come or not?” Ryoken asked.

To him, the answer was obvious as his body was being flooded by a healthy stream of semen. He felt his lower belly bulge; now, not only with the entry of Spectre’s prick inside of him, but because of the flow of semen. He was being pumped full of it; it was far too steady of a stream, not filling but it did feel like the prelude to a rather full deluge. He kind of liked it though. It was debasing. And so Ryoken lost himself in it because he was helpless to do much more with that feeling. He wanted to be full of it, until he burst or until it came out his ears.

“Well, I mentioned before. I tried self-stimulation and I could bring myself to reasonable orgasm because, unlike you, quite clearly, I can simply… ejaculate whenever I please, really. Though, that being said, only whilst I’m rutting; out of season, I don’t possess this ability, I suppose you would call it. Regardless, some pleasure first makes the result sweeter but once I empty myself, an orgasm happens. It's rather reliable. It’s just boring when it goes everywhere. I mean, my contemplations are proving correct,” Spectre’s voice had begun factually but now it has turned into a rather twisted and lusty purr, “it is far more satisfying to fill someone with it.”

“So,” Ryoken huffed pointedly, “to make a long story short. You cum then orgasm whilst I orgasm in order to cum.”

“Yes, that sounds about right.” Spectre replied.

“Fascinating.” Ryoken exasperatedly exclaimed. “And, pray tell, how long do you ejaculate from?”

Spectre hummed in recollection. “I’ve only done it a few times but the few times I have, somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five minutes.”

“What?” Ryoken’s eyes widened.

“Uh yes, get comfortable, kitty.” Spectre recommended to him.

“Alright.” Ryoken said, taking him up on it. “I think I’ll be more comfortable lying down, you know? So, roll over.”

“Whatever you say, Master Ryoken.” Spectre replied.

Spectre rolled over, taking Ryoken with him. His hair flopped about and he spun a little. He hadn’t expected that one, singular motion would take so much out of him. His stomach whirled around a bit whilst Spectre continued to ejaculate inside of him. Ryoken took a long, heaving breath. He felt nauseous. Fifteen to twenty-five minutes, he found himself thinking – contemplating – and coming to the conclusion that it was not going to be a paradisiacal fifteen to twenty-five minutes.

Still, once he closed his eyes to it and let Spectre continue to have at his very wet and very pink neck, he was able to get lost in the sensation of it. His blood and body settled; though, his erection maintained quite well. He probably would have liked to give said erection some attention but given that his arms were very much sealed tight in Spectre’s extremely warm coil, it seemed impossible and the alternative was worse. He loved Spectre very much, truly, but Ryoken wasn’t sure if he loved Spectre enough to trust him to put his claws anywhere near his cock as given the opportunity to put his paws on his chest, he usually chose to try to puncture Ryoken’s skin. Not necessarily with the intent to, but it certainly happened, nonetheless.

Ryoken still took it handsomely as Spectre repetitively thrust into him. The impact of his incessant, over and over pounding had diminished somewhat. Either because he was tiring or perhaps out of respect for his tiny but very much beloved human, or simply because humping Ryoken from this lying down angle was a touch difficult. Whatever the reason, it certainly gave Ryoken more than enough leniency to immerse himself in various thoughts. Right now, he was amusing himself with a private joke. An intact male ferret was called a hob and whilst Spectre may have gifted Ryoken the title of “Jill”, Ryoken thought “hobknocker” would be more apt given its more obscure derogative. But that was mostly the pervert in him. For now, he simply appreciated that Spectre was an intact hob at all given how many times he had been threatened with the operation in his youth because he had disobeyed or otherwise annoyed Aso or Genome.

Though, Ryoken was soon distracted from such unerotic thoughts. Spectre was still faithfully having at him so, Ryoken believed he owed him the easy courtesy of thinking of him and only him in the midst of this tryst. Thus, Ryoken closed his eyes to it and attempted to lose himself in the rhythm. Something which should have been made easy by the delightful way Spectre vocalised beside him, right next to his heart: grunting, purring, licking his jowls. It was simply a shame that Ryoken was a few more things before being a romantic – or even a pervert. Namely a scientist; perhaps a biologist, though that seemed to muddy given the slurry that he was currently being pumped full of with each and every thrust that Spectre excitably bestowed upon him using as much power in his furry hindquarters as he could muster.

So, over and over, in that orgasmic rhythm, Ryoken unfortunately found himself not appreciating the ride, at least note solely and in a well-meaning or unencumbered manner but counting the minutes. Not in a way which meant offence, just in a way which studied. The answer, he found, accumulated in the span of time which Spectre had predicted earlier. That is to say, Ryoken counted, and despite the very absorbing distractions, to a precise seventeen minutes of pure and straight ejaculation from Spectre and into him.

Better still, it was precisely on that seventeenth minute that Ryoken had so lovingly calculated that Spectre climaxed. His head rolled back, and his tail thumped. His voice became garbled as he whole-heartedly threw himself into his orgasm. His prick erratically moved inside of Ryoken again, tightly filling him up and stirring him up, drawing forth a lingering moan contrary to the franticness which Spectre was suddenly consumed by.

The thrusts were becoming shallower and shallower until Spectre pulled back with a gasp of his own. His prick began to expand again: the cockhead had curled in on itself, become a hook to keep itself in place inside of Ryoken. Still, it shone wetly in the artificial light; so bright between Ryoken’s legs, peeking out of its furry sheathe. Spectre panted between moans which were these godawful and rollicking noises through his long, exaggerated throat. His hindlegs thumped and tail whipped around as he slowly released Ryoken from his embrace.

Ryoken slowly got up. He let his legs relax on either side of Spectre, riding him really given that he was all but straddling his prick still half-emerged from his sheathe. Still, his stomach lurched, and he had to hold onto Spectre’s chest, grasping through his greasy fur, to keep himself steady. His whole body ached. He lifted himself off Spectre, just a little bit and the pressure made his legs all but give out. Pain peppered through his muscles and worse still, he felt himself leak.

His cheeks flushed as he felt it. The way semen streamed out of him. The viscosity of which was uncomfortable to say the least, especially given how wrecked his body was from this exercise. However, Spectre seemed to take keen interest in every micro-expression that Ryoken was having: good and bad. His eyes, blue and swirling, brightened and became immensely intrigued. Over his muzzle, he was able to convey looks of both pride and haughtiness. Even though he could feel the wet of his own cum drip down him, leaking from inside Ryoken.

“I feel… sick.” Ryoken confessed.

Spectre’s ears twitched and he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Already? Humans are so fertile; I had no idea.”

“Not like that.” Ryoken snapped, scolding him. “And you know it.”

“I know, I know…” Spectre conceded; he made a noise which was something like a chuckle.

Ryoken leaned down. He ran his fingers through Spectre’s fur and the way he twitched beneath him, seemed to imply that he was ticklish. He looked up and Spectre had met him half-way over his own body. Their mouths met. It happened unthinkingly and for that reason, Ryoken felt his heart skip a beat as his mouth somewhat clashed against Spectre; his bristled muzzle, his rubbery lips, his coarse tongue. To him and all, Ryoken opened his mouth and let Spectre have his way with him.

In turn, that gave Ryoken a little more freedom with his hands. He was close. He knew he was close: he could feel it under his skin and in his bloodstream. Looking down on himself, Ryoken barely recognised himself and in some well-fucked part of his brain, he got the feeling that he was going to have to get used to that. Ryoken never had the most toned or flat belly, but it certainly looked odd all bulging with Spectre’s cum. Regardless, Ryoken steeled himself and grasped his cock. He smiled to himself as he let Spectre kiss him. In a way, all his dreams were coming true. After all, he loved Spectre and fantasised a fair few – if not every time – times about him. His length, his prick, his tongue, even his paws and tail and stench: everything about him. Ryoken adored him.

So, he grasped onto his cock and gave it a jerk. His skin prickled as Spectre licked the inside of his mouth. He groaned and shifted slightly. He felt Spectre’s prick brush against him again. He seemed tentative, perhaps a little bit exhausted, Ryoken couldn’t blame him but it still felt good.

Ryoken moaned into Spectre’s mouth. Spectre chittered in return, a surprisingly guttural noise which reverberated along Ryoken’s lips, and that sent sparks down his nerves, quickening the pace in which jerked himself off. He sputtered out lewd noises as his hands wrapped around his length. Spectre fervently licked and kissed him. A heat rose across his back as Spectre got excited again. It was a different sort of heat to how he felt all wrapped up in Spectre’s body; this was internal, flushed and nearly embarrassed. Spectre’s prick, meanwhile, nudged against Ryoken’s backside with more precise and purposeful intent.

With simpering breaths, Ryoken found himself edging unto his peak. Part of him wished dearly that Spectre could fuck him again, but instead, he had to make do with those ghosting feelings of his prick behind him, causing sparks to explode beneath the skin-to-skin contact as well as the guidance of his own hand.

The friction was full of sparks; his palm against his length and he panted as he jerked off. Spectre’s prick continued to catch against him and there, in splotches, Ryoken felt heat bloom. His veins could have burst, and he found himself tumbling quickly over the brink of pleasure as he continued to masturbate atop of his lover. Spectre watched with the keenest and dearest interest as Ryoken came unto his sputtering orgasm. A jet of white messily spurted from his loved-up cock.

Ryoken tipped back his head and crooned. Spectre found such a noise to be the sweetest melody as riddled with lust and lack of energy as it was. Ryoken’s heart pounded swiftly in his chest as his crescendo dipped down. He took big, heaping breaths before looking down on himself, his cock slowly becoming flaccid in his hand, and the mess that he had made. He made Spectre’s fur sticky quite handsomely. A smile – smug and proud – pricked on his lips as he licked them over.

His. He found himself thinking before any thought of assistance. But, Ryoken thought in something near contradiction, he was as much Spectre’s as Spectre was much his given how much cum he was pumped full of. Cum which was still in his system as he lifted himself up. His legs were weak and weary, so he failed. He held onto Spectre.

Spectre leaned over himself, hefting himself off his soft mound. He licked gingerly at Ryoken’s face.

“I love you, kitty.” he whispered.

Ryoken smiled dopily in reply. His heart fluttered and for a second, his vision doubled, blurred.

“I love you too, Spectre.” he murmured back.

He chastely kissed Spectre’s fuzzy muzzle then pulled back. Spectre eased himself away as well; a twinge running up and down his spine as it was difficult for him to maintain such a bent-over pose for too long. With Spectre lying back down again, even though he had pins and needles in his legs, Ryoken felt that he didn’t want to get up again; not even to shake out those feelings clamping the muscles in his legs.

So, exhausted, both fell unto themselves. Spectre encircled Ryoken and Ryoken allowed it. He rested against Spectre, indulging again in his absurd warmth. He kept his knees all but beneath his chin as he got comfortable. Spectre meanwhile had his nose tucked under his tail, resting on his forepaws, protectively keeping Ryoken nested.

“We should do this again sometime.” Spectre said.

“Yeah, we should.” Ryoken snorted.

“Oh, we have to.” Spectre insisted. “After all, I want kits and I want you to have them for me.”

Ryoken huffed but it turned into a laugh. “Whatever you say, love.”

Spectre nattered, seemingly smug that he had won that little round of playful, pretend bickering. Ryoken took a breath and he rested on Spectre. He had to admit the monstrous ferret made for a good pillow. He was remarkably soft despite his other flaws such as his smell and how greasy he was. Though, Ryoken was cynical, he supposed that was the right word, regarding just how contented Spectre was right now.

“What are you thinking about?” Ryoken asked.

“My sexual daydreams, I suppose. Though, if we’re lucky, they won’t be daydreams for much longer.” Spectre hummed.

“And what daydreams are those?” Ryoken facetiously inquired.

“Do you want the full story, Master Ryoken?” Spectre asked, one eye opened in suspicion.

Ryoken hummed. He had a feeling that his answer should be no. Instead, it was not and that delighted Spectre immensely in turn.

“Ones where you’re begging for my wood to soothe your inflamed genitals, on heat and desperate from all the estrogen, lifting your ass to me, whimpering and pink, letting me mate you over and over. Ones where your middle swells with kits squirming inside and despite that, you’re still begging for me every day, curse your human virility at odds with your body as impacted by me. Oh, and I swear by this actually, but I would lick your cunt every day, if you so wish it during your term – or even every day after it, as well. Personally, I think that would be lovely.” Spectre prattled.

Ryoken went red and the implication of emasculation turned him on more significantly than he would have liked.

And then, Spectre’s voice softened, became shy after such brashness: “And, most important of all, ones where we’re happy together… I just want to look after you, for now and forever, my dear.”

“You’re cute when your horny.” Ryoken replied, sighing and trying to hide the fact that he was somewhat hard over Spectre’s fantasies of breeding him.

He turned himself over and Spectre squirmed slightly. He had probably turned himself on again from recounting that as well so Ryoken snuggled in tight, his face grazing against Spectre’s shoulder blades as he made himself comfortable in Spectre’s den in the dark. He smiled as he inhaled Spectre’s scent. It shouldn’t have made him happy or even smile as it was that powerful of a putrid musk, but he couldn’t get enough of it. His stomach stirred though. He felt a strange kind of good and bad, still quite full of all of Spectre’s cum as not all of it had leaked from his well-fucked hole yet.

“Good night, Master Ryoken.” Spectre mumbled before his mouth caught on a yawn.

“It’s still day…” Ryoken replied and he couldn’t help but yawn either.

“I know, but sweet dreams, kitty.” Spectre granted him.

Ryoken’s heart skipped a beat. “Sweet dreams to you, too.” He chuckled to himself. “No dreams of getting me pregnant are allowed though.”

Spectre chuffed. “Far too late for that, kitty. But, don’t worry, I promise to be a good mate through it. And, of course, after it as well.”


	3. Chapter 3

The days following Ryoken and Spectre’s consequent mating were, oddly enough, exactly what Ryoken had wanted to transpire proceeding the heart to heart that he had desired to thrust upon Spectre. He was glad that his long-time companion, now mate, was not ill and had re-joined the household. His old habits were returning, such as bringing his kills back to eat at the house so he could be a part of breakfast as well socialising with them again. He was becoming active during the day again, dropping by about lunch or just about before popping off for another nap. It was nice.

What wasn’t as nice, however, was that Ryoken was beginning to see changes in his body. He was suddenly a lot more nervous around Spectre, suddenly aware and mildly turned on by any and all proximity between them amongst other things. And given that Spectre was sniffing him a lot more, again for the first time in a decade, Ryoken was very much a red mess over it. Not to mention, Spectre was suddenly acting far bolder around him as well. Their relationship had changed and the worst of it had been copped when they were more or less forced just to say “Yes, we fucked” at the end of a pointed knife from Aso, Kyoko, and Genome.

After all, Ryoken was forced to carry all sorts of symbols of his and Spectre’s sex on his body. The back of his head, notably his hair, had been discoloured to a straw-like yellow thanks to Spectre’s saliva and then there were the various hickeys and love bites he had in plain sight. All of which he was rather shy about whilst Spectre was very exuberant about wanting to show off his work: all things which contributed to the tension between not only them, but between them and Ryoken’s assistants as well. And that was a conversation that went as swimmingly as one would expect.

Still, there were worse changes than those purely regarding the dynamics of the household too or suddenly being overly sensitive to otherwise small things. Ryoken had noticed an inflammation between his legs. He could feel it under his ass; behind his balls too and creeping around underneath and just coming down between his thighs. It was an uncomfortable feeling, red and cumbersome. At first, he hoped for the best and that it was just some leftover discomfort from being ‘bred’ by Spectre. After all, he realised that having unprotected sex outside his species was unsafe but more so in hindsight. Still, he clung to that optimism right up until about a week passed but he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. This rash, this redness, this whatever it was, was darkening and reddening and worst of all: spreading. It made him feel incredibly tender regardless of what he did, so it was time to do something about it.

Ryoken waited for his chance, bided his time. He did not want Spectre to be present for this conversation at all, so he left it until after lunch as Spectre usually napped the deepest when the sun was at its strongest during noon. Though, knowing that he was fast asleep did little to alleviate the awkwardness when Ryoken returned to the kitchen table after lunch after a strategic break in time.

Kyoko was flipping through a book; Aso was doing the dishes; and Genome was working on his latest hobby, origami. Ryoken sat down, straight backed, in his chair and fidgeted with his hands on the table. Kyoko noticed and raised a brow over the slick page of her book.

“Yes…?” she said.

“I have a question. Perhaps just a concern.” Ryoken said.

“Regarding what?” she asked.

She glanced towards Genome who was now sticking out his tongue as he folded a very difficult looking fold into his already very complicated-looking origami creation. Ryoken took a breath and tried his best to ignore Genome, as well as the sound of the sponge squeaking against the porcelain plates which had once hosted various sandwiches and the like.

“I think I have an STI.” Ryoken said. Blurting it out as that seemed like the better option than beating around the bush and now that he had, he felt a humiliatingly heavy weight lift off his shoulders.

“Unsurprising.” Genome clicked his tongue.

“Well, you guys are doctors-”

“Allegedly.” Genome interrupted him.

“I was hoping for some advice.” Ryoken huffed.

“I think we’ll need to see it first.” Kyoko replied, bored as all hell-sounding.

Ryoken blushed. There was a part of him which was completely and thoroughly convinced that Kyoko just wanted to humiliate him. She had that kind of personality after all, but she was still right. He would be a bit difficult to diagnose without a first-hand account and the epicentre of his pain and discomfort wasn’t a place he could easily see either, so he got up from the chair.

He stepped aside and dropped his pants. Genome snorted with laughter whilst Ryoken bent down. Kyoko lifted herself slightly whilst Aso regrettably wandered past the breakfast bar which protected the sink like an inlet cove. Ryoken huffed again.

“So, what are your medical opinions?” he asked, embarrassed.

“It doesn’t look like a rash…” Aso murmured. “Rashes generally dimple the skin; yours is quite smooth, all things considered. Not to mention, quite contained and has an even colour spread.”

“Thanks.” Ryoken spat.

“And you’re not experiencing other symptoms which could be mistaken for a cold or something?” Aso asked.

“Nope.” Ryoken replied.

“Feeling crusty?” Genome inquired.

“No.” Ryoken replied.

“What about itchy?” Kyoko asked.

“A little bit. Like, I don’t want to scratch; just touch. Like, putting my hands on my thighs cools it slightly.” Ryoken replied.

“Hmm…” Kyoko hummed as she mulled over his reply. “You know, ferrets are induced ovulators. Your darling hob upstairs called you his Jill. So, my diagnosis is that its oestrus.”

Ryoken snapped back and grabbed his pants. “I’m not in heat!”

“Oh, don’t act like we haven’t noticed that you’re now visibly horny around Spectre every time you’re in the same room together.” Genome scathingly replied.

“I’m not.” Ryoken argued back. “Why don’t you remember being young and losing your virginity; it’s weird, okay?”

“So, it seems that the diagnosis is oestrus.” Kyoko smiled, teasing.

“I’m. Not. On. Heat.” Ryoken argued back.

“We’ll go run a quick errand for you then; some sort of generic anti-biotic might help.” Aso suggested.

“We’ll check with the veterinary first; see if they have anything to help an un-spayed Jill through its first heat. I hear there are injections.” Genome joked.

“Fuck off.” Ryoken snapped.

“I heard Master Ryoken making a ruckus, so I thought I would come down and investigate.” Spectre piped up.

The four humans turned towards the stairwell. It was forever amusing to watch Spectre come down – or even go up – the stairs. After all, his large and lanky figure restricted to a quadruped mode of walking made him physically awkward in general but having to manoeuvre said body around infrastructures made for comparatively tiny humans was quite funny. Still, he clambered down nonetheless and managed to look as graceful as possible.

He padded into the kitchen and didn’t seem sleepy at all, let alone that he might have woken from a nap to begin with despite the time of day. He drew in closer to Ryoken who instinctively blushed and twitched beside him. Spectre bent down and sniffed Ryoken’s neck and shoulders. His whiskers felt ticklish when they innocently bumped against Ryoken.

“So, why the raised voices?” Spectre asked.

“Good news, your Jill is on heat.” Kyoko said and if she had a glass of champagne present with her, she likely would have raised it in toast as it was that kind of farcical voice that she had used.

Spectre’s eyes keened; his whiskers lifted. “Truly?”

“No, you fool. You’ve given me an STI.” Ryoken snapped.

“We haven’t come to an official conclusion, yet. It could even just be a random viral infection that Ryoken’s happened upon somehow by chance.” Aso said.

Still, both Aso and Ryoken’s interjections on the topic did little to dampen Spectre’s enthusiasm over the idea of having successfully induced a heat in his beloved mate; despite how seemingly impossible, to the humans at least, that such a thing seemed.

“Whatever the case, us three will go and do some hunting around. We’ll consult actual doctors-” Aso continued.

“And veterinarians, if need be too!” Genome giddily piped up.

“To gain a better understanding of whatever affliction Ryoken is now suffering.” Aso concluded his fair speech.

“Thank you, Aso. I appreciate it.” Ryoken said.

“Well, whilst you humans rummage through that option, I’m going to settle it my way.” Spectre announced.

“And how exactly do you plan to do th-” Ryoken asked but before his question could be fully realised, Spectre took him by the scruff of his neck.

Spectre had been immensely disappointed with the human body many years ago upon discovering that they lacked a scruff. That meant, there was no safe way for him to pick Ryoken up by the back of his neck. At least not one which didn’t hurt him, but Spectre had, instead, mastered a way of picking Ryoken up by the neck of his clothes to the point that Ryoken specifically chose fabrics which were resistant to the wear and tear of fangs and teeth. Not that it helped much given that when his shirts were hefted upwards, Ryoken felt the whiplash mostly in the crook of his underarms. Additionally, most of the pain was more emotional as it was viscerally embarrassing to have a stupidly huge monster pick one up and toss you around like some sort of doll. Something Spectre never tired of it as he toddled off with Ryoken hanging by the back of his shirt from his mouth.

“Well, good luck you two.” Genome sighed.

“Do not!” Ryoken barked at Genome and then to Spectre, yelled: “Put me down!”

“Don’t worry, Ryoken, we’ll get you some sort of medication to help.” Kyoko called out. “Tata now, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Stop condoning this!” Ryoken shrieked as he struggled but Spectre was gallant as he marched onwards and upwards.

Spectre dropped Ryoken in front of his door. Ryoken huffed and he straightened out his shirt and jacket. His brows twinged as he stomped about; turning around, half a pivot so that he could face Spectre whose enormous body was cramming up the hallway. Ryoken looked up and him, up along his snout, and as he did so, that annoyance and possible anger fizzled out. Instead of kindling it and amassing some sort of argument as to why he shouldn’t be manhandled, Ryoken found himself admiring the curves of Spectre’s unique skull and taking notice of his fur bristled, the way it was shaded. The different hues which all turned to one from far away or when he wasn’t paying attention.

“I want to mate you.” Spectre told him.

He leaned down and pecked Ryoken’s face; the corner of his brow. Then, slipped his tongue forth through his maw and licked Ryoken’s forehead before withdrawing as demurely as possible.

“I know.” Ryoken replied and his body was experiencing a fizzy hotness. “I want to be mated as well.”

Using Spectre’s dirty talk felt awkward and clunky on his tongue, but it seemed they played by Spectre’s rules or not at all. Ryoken didn’t mind. Not really; not ultimately, anyway. Though, Ryoken would like to maintain that he was most certainly not on heat. This was just him complying with Spectre’s fantasy because it was something which intrigued him and better yet, aroused him.

“I want you to have my kits.” Spectre stated.

Ryoken’s nose wrinkled upon being told that. Again. The seriousness in which Spectre said these things – and repeatedly – was funny. He didn’t know how to react, but he knew he ought to do it respectfully at the very least. Spectre’s conviction, however mired in the impossible, was oddly admirable.

“Then,” Ryoken murmured, husky, he reached up so that he could touch Spectre’s face, “fill me up right.” The sound of his own words sent a tingle down his spine.

Spectre leaned down and excitedly nudged against Ryoken’s face. His paws stumbled beneath him and Ryoken pinned himself against the door. His lower back half hit the handle, but he didn’t mind whilst Spectre kissed him ravenously. Ryoken was immediately breathless as a result. Spectre swiped at his mouth using his long, coarse tongue and he panted. His body felt immensely hot as Ryoken tried to hold on for some semblance of control or comfort whilst Spectre so vehemently kissed him. The scratch of his muzzle against Ryoken’s soft, human face was pleasant as he all but drank the drool which dripped from Spectre’s maw as he lapped at Ryoken’s mouth.

“Oh, Spectre…” Ryoken murmured, burning red hot.

Spectre grunted, pleased, in reply. His mouth dropped slightly, and he began to ravage Ryoken’s neck and shoulders. Spectre immensely pleased to discover flecks of his markings from a week prior had remained visible on Ryoken. The bruises which dotted him here and there had mostly faded but there were still clouds and blooms of pinks and purples here and there from how thoroughly Spectre had loved him; claimed him. He felt his prick start to slide out of his sheathe at the thought of getting to do that to Ryoken all over again. Still, he kept his length restrained and focused on tonguing Ryoken to hell and back.

He quivered at Spectre’s fervent work with his tongue. He sighed and lifted his chin up so that Spectre could come in closer, go at him from a better angle. The stride of his tongue along Ryoken’s skin was a blissful endeavour to endure but made far more amusing when Spectre took to doing his very best to getting underneath his clothes. The hem of his shirt thudded against his upper chest whilst Spectre licked at him. His tongue crawled along Ryoken’s skin gratingly and with demeanour Ryoken couldn’t help but liken to the domestic of his species chasing ants in an anthill.

Ryoken strategically propped his arm up behind him and started groping for the doorknob, all whilst so lovingly lashed by Spectre and his wondrous tongue. It took a couple goes, and not for lack of trying as Ryoken’s attention was very much split and very much biased towards Spectre, but he managed to pry open the door from his position. He crept backwards and led Spectre into his room; together they took slow steps, almost waltz-like steps.

Spectre lifted his mouth, wet with his saliva, from Ryoken. Their eyes met briefly with Ryoken’s back to the darkness just past the threshold. He smirked. With a nimble move, he reached across and flicked the switch. In doing so, especially whilst remaining face-to-face with Spectre and oh, so close, Ryoken could see that turn on in his eyes. The way the pupils bobbed so giddily in the beautiful blue of his irises.

“I do hope, dear, that you’re not sick of my tongue just yet as I have a few more things I want to do with you first.” Spectre drawled, licking his chops.

Ryoken watched the elegant – clumsy, hungry – swipe of Spectre’s tongue across his pearly white teeth. He swallowed. “That’s excellent to hear. I promise to pay you back fourfold and then some, kitty.”

“I look forward to it,” Spectre replied, the two continued to ease themselves into Spectre’s room, his tail whipped around and closed the door behind them once they had sufficiently crossed the threshold, “now, Master Ryoken, dear, would you please get out of your clothes, I’d hate to put holes in them.”

“Too easy.” Ryoken replied, chuffed.

With the door closed and lights on, they were both far too eager to go further, especially since their mouths and lips were already wet and kiss swollen. Ryoken tore off his clothes. He discarded his jacket swiftly and got his head caught in the hole of his shirt in his haste. Spectre didn’t mind as he curled up around the mound of pillows and blankets, and a mattress too, that he called his bed in the middle of his den. He chittered as he watched Ryoken’s naked body slowly elucidate unto him.

Spectre bestowed upon Ryoken a come hither to look, as good as one could muster with a mustelid face, and Ryoken approached. He knelt awkwardly amongst the soft items that Spectre decorated his bed with. And Spectre kissed him; the corner of his mouth specifically.

“Now,” Spectre breathed, “let me see your secret flower.”

_ My what? _ Ryoken thought to himself in faux exclamation but any hesitation he may have had was literally pushed aside. Spectre placed a paw atop his chest and with just a gentle push, he was able to shove Ryoken to the ground. Ryoken’s legs flailed and between them, Spectre eagerly nosed in.

Spectre grinned a ferret grin whilst his nose nudged up against Ryoken’s cock and balls. He sniffed them, whiskers bouncing, and licking his chops. He investigated all of Ryoken’s nooks and crannies, restraining himself, but he was becoming very excited in his process. Ryoken shivered as he felt Spectre’s wet nose against him and then, his wet tongue. He inhaled sharply whilst Spectre licked at his hole.

“You’re coming along wonderfully, kitty… So red and pink; though, not as swollen as I thought you’d be but… Yes, you are ready, aren’t you?” Spectre chittered to himself.

His praise of Ryoken caused him to blush and shiver. He adored how Spectre’s words felt against his skin. His heart pounded.

“D-Do you want me to turn over?” Ryoken asked. “Would this be easier for you if I was on my hands and knees?”

“Yes, it would.” Spectre replied.

He licked his lips again whilst he removed himself from between Ryoken’s legs, but he looked so good there, Ryoken was going to make certain that he was returned there afterwards. Still, he thought that he would make a good little Jill of himself and turn over. He propped himself up on his hands and knees before taking the plunge. He all but buried his head in pillows and blankets and raised his ass up to Spectre. He grasped tightly onto what was soft beneath him and steeled himself. Before he knew it, Spectre raked his tongue against the full of Ryoken’s cheeks before pressing onwards.

Spectre lapped ravenously at Ryoken’s rim, making him grunt and squeal beneath him. He was becoming more and more free with the guttural noises which welled up inside of him as he was pleasured. Ryoken found it to be a welcome change which left his throat raw and his mouth wet with pooling saliva as he thoroughly enjoyed having anilingus done to him by Spectre’s peculiarly coarse tongue. After all, Ryoken felt that logically, he ought to revile it but instead, he found himself silently begging for Spectre to be harder, rougher, deeper. All things he seemed to intuitively understand based purely on the unchaste noises that he elicited from Ryoken.

Ryoken arched his back and pushed back against Spectre. He further lifted his ass to Spectre; trying his best, not necessarily consciously though, to look like the bitch in heat which he was denying being in the first place. Nonetheless, Spectre adored the resistance. He certainly adored how he was interpreting Ryoken’s little movements whilst he inhaled the scent of Ryoken’s sex. He placed his paws over Ryoken’s legs in a feeble, almost playful, way of keeping him down. Such a little act spurred him onto further lick Ryoken. Spectre growled as he so fiercely licked Ryoken and Ryoken melted into it. Further down his body, he even enjoyed the flick of Spectre’s claws against the back of his legs as he was held down.

He was almost supremely disappointed when Spectre withdrew. He panted and pawed at his jowls. Ryoken sat down and he felt dull aches in his lower body; they were pleasant though. He looked over his shoulder at Spectre who had a keen look in his pale teal eyes: he had an idea.

“Master Ryoken, let’s try a different position. Let me go underneath you.” Spectre said.

Ryoken’s whole body prickled; his cock, already quite hard, further stiffened between his legs. “Really?” he asked.

“I want you to straddle my mouth.” Spectre said.

“Oh.” Ryoken said and his heart faltered.

The clarification turned that prickle into something else. He had liked the idea of being the one to penetrate Spectre, but this was, at least at first thought, a good idea, too. Yet, Ryoken thought of how easily Spectre eviscerated and ate his prey. He trusted Spectre but the idea of being so up close and personal with such destructive fangs did bother him. It bothered him from both a primordial place of fear and bothered him from a more lascivious angle. So, naturally, he spun it that way and took heart.

“Alright.” he agreed.

Spectre chittered and laid down. He twisted around and Ryoken watched as his unnaturally long body arched. Spectre looked so strange and silly and sexy too, so Ryoken lifted himself off the ground. He came in closer, approached from a different way and breathed very calmly, very steadily. He lowered himself down between Spectre’s jaws.

With either leg protruding outside of Spectre’s mouth, but the rest of his body contained, Ryoken felt like he was kneeling between the prongs of a steel-trap. A very wet and rather fleshy steel-trap but a trap nonetheless given how sharp Spectre’s fangs were. Ryoken shivered and when he looked down on himself, he was somewhat surprised that being inside such a precarious position, his erection and nipples were both hard. He placed a hand on Spectre’s muzzle and ran his fingers through his finer, shorter hairs there. They were coarse but he didn’t mind. He especially didn’t mind how Spectre’s contented purr rattled through the whole of his body as he got comfortable.

Spectre took a moment to savour Ryoken. To him, the human tasted sublime: not as a meal, but as a mate. Then, once he thought he had appreciated the taste of Ryoken, a taste of meat with faint and cleanly traces of lye and sprigs of herbs, Spectre began his mouthed courting of Ryoken again. He drew his tongue upwards and flicked it between Ryoken’s legs. He gyrated instinctively, trying to rub himself against the roof of Spectre’s mouth. Spectre chuckled but it sounded – felt – muffled. Ryoken continued to evaluate which breath he took. Spectre continued to ravish Ryoken with stroke after stroke from his tongue.

He enjoyed it spectacularly when Ryoken so feebly attempted to grind back against his mouth. He chittered when Ryoken held onto him, gingerly and through his teeth, careful not be pricked by the point that the curve of his fangs all came too. It was sweet. Ryoken moaned lewdly whilst Spectre performed anilingus on him.

Ryoken grinded against Spectre’s mouth. Spectre’s tongue lashed him. He licked hungrily along the pink splotches on Ryoken’s skin, under his ass and between his thighs. He lapped at the back of Ryoken’s testicles before dragging his tongue back and plunging it upwards into his hole. Spectre lapped at Ryoken with a lack of finesse but a great enthusiasm. It was all the same to Ryoken who was brought within an inch of his pleasure before Spectre decided to deny him it.

Ryoken’s throat was sore with the moans that had been elicited from him. His heart hammered in his chest as he felt the grate of Spectre’s tongue against his most intimate anatomy lessen until it stopped at all. He looked down on Spectre and caught a glimpse of his face over his long muzzle. His nose twitched; his whiskers bounced; and the rumble of his voice stirred up from the deepest part of his throat so far away down his body.

“Let me fellate you, please, Master Ryoken.” Spectre purred.

A shiver ran down Ryoken’s spine and he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” Ryoken replied as though to a question; it had been more of a statement.

He withdrew himself from atop Spectre’s mouth. His knees were weak, pins and needles sparked in his calves, so he soon collapsed into a pile upon hefting himself somewhere to the right of Spectre. He kept his knees far apart and relaxed, melting into the heap of bedding beneath him whilst Spectre got to his own paws as well. He shook himself out and Ryoken watched as his fur rippled and crumpled.

Spectre then plopped himself down in front of Ryoken. The way in which he did so, made it seem as though his bones had suddenly liquified, especially given how ungraceful he was in doing so but no matter. Ryoken was used to seeing Spectre display such elasticity and flexibility; it seemed crowning unto his species, as well, both domestic and monstrous such as he.

Regardless, Ryoken liked having Spectre so close to him. The feeling of his whiskers ghosting over his skin got him excited. His pointed nose was uncomfortably close; Spectre’s head all but in his lap, slowly inching forward so that he could fellate Ryoken. His cock ached and the whole of his body yearned for Spectre.

“Please,” Ryoken murmured, nearly begging, “tongue-fuck me really good.”

“With pleasure, sir.” Spectre replied.

Spectre followed up with word by swiftly licking a long, languid stripe up Ryoken’s cock. He sighed contentedly; his fingers moved delicately along the bedding beneath him, melting into it as Spectre ravished him some more. He lapped adamantly at Ryoken’s cock. Ryoken crooned beneath him as he took every lash upon him. He called out Spectre’s name, over and over, mangled with his lust. He bucked his hips to Spectre’s mouth, only further encouraging the voracity in which he went down on Ryoken. The bodily pleasure was sublime.

His back arched and he found himself no different to Spectre and how his nervous energy manifested. Ryoken kicked his leg, letting it thump against the ground as he moaned and moaned as Spectre licked him. His tongue was pleasantly painful against the sensitive skin of his cock and even between his thighs; at the very top of them. Spectre paid special attention to where Ryoken was inflamed and he had to admit, when Spectre ravaged him where he knew he was pink and tender, Ryoken felt a visceral relief. The tactile sensation of being stroked by Spectre’s unusually textured tongue coupled with Spectre’s nearly divine admiration of him was all but working a miracle unto his body. His saliva was no different to a salve upon Ryoken’s burning skin.

“Spectre,” Ryoken moaned, “Spectre, please…”

His lewd voice was the most precious music unto Spectre’s ears. They flicked atop his head whilst he found yet more energy and eagerness still to bring Ryoken to climax. Ryoken’s whole body ached. His chest pounded and he felt great pressure inside of him which was causing him to unravel.

Ryoken came. A jet of white spurted from the tip of his cockhead as he panted hard in the wake of his orgasm. His body couldn’t contain how he felt anymore. The emotions – the lust, the love, and so much more – was too much for him to handle inside himself. He was completely and utterly wracked – wrecked – by it and yet, Spectre persisted even when Ryoken’s cum smeared across his muzzle and dotted his nose. Human semen was of a much thinner and lighter concentration, but it still made a rather lewd mess regardless. Amid such a mess, Spectre lapped at Ryoken’s cock, his tongue slid down his dirtied slit, cleaning it with a graceful demeanour.

Spectre withdrew slightly. He nattered as he licked over his chops, running his tongue along his teeth and black-lined lips as he cleaned himself down. Ryoken flushed slightly and tried to prop himself up only to fail. He flopped back down onto the bedding, beaten over the years from how Spectre had treated it. He smiled though.

“Th-That was good.” Ryoken embarrassedly praised him.

Spectre made his funny, overly self-important noises. Ryoken liked them though. No matter how smug sounding they were. Spectre licked his lips again and poked the tip of his tongue through his whiskers as well, making sure that he really was clean of every drop of cum that Ryoken had sprayed onto him.

“I believe, Master Ryoken,” Spectre began, “that I recall you promising to return your pleasure fourfold back unto me, my love. Now tell me, dear, how do you intend to do so?”

Ryoken shivered. He couldn’t tell if it was a growl or a purr in Spectre’s voice, but it turned him on either way. His cock, half-flaccid as he had come earlier, twitched and threatened to stiffen again so soon. Ryoken swallowed and he felt something like regret creep through his veins ice cold, but he soon found a rather red-hot composure.

With a click of his tongue, he then beckoned Spectre to roll over with a circular motioned hand gesture. Spectre obliged. He twisted around and exposed his grand belly to Ryoken – his sheathe too with his shiny, pink prick poking through its guard. Ryoken stirred at the sight but he had other ideas. Ideas which were contrary to the last time that he and Spectre had had sex and possibly to Spectre’s vision of what Ryoken wanted to do unto him as well.

Ryoken took upon Spectre’s body, straddling him at the uppermost peak of his chest. Ryoken straddled him and Spectre chittered. A purr which rumbled throughout Ryoken’s body. He absorbed the noise with deep breaths, enjoying how such noises resonated physically inside of him. Ryoken drew Spectre’s left paw closer to him. Spectre allowed. He let his forearm grow limp and let Ryoken draw it in closer to him until his arms were firmly wrapped around it.

Ryoken grinded against Spectre’s forearm. Spectre snickered. A flicker of satisfaction lit up Ryoken’s eyes. He nuzzled his face against the inner of Spectre’s paw. The smell of Spectre’s musk was scanter here compared to at the base of his tail or his underbelly, but it was still quite odious. Ryoken didn’t mind. He once again found himself revelling in the stench as he rubbed his cheeks against the fur which occupied the spaces between Spectre’s toe pads.

With a far too contented sigh, Ryoken kissed Spectre’s carpal pad. It seemed mostly unsullied by everyday use, compared to the pad which was above it. Regardless, Ryoken was keen to suckle against it, rolling his tongue underneath it as he explored the protrusion of it. He was perhaps curt with it, as he flicked it with his tongue and sucked it before moving onto Spectre’s metacarpal pad.

The skin of which was ragged, Ryoken realised as his soft, human lips passed over the wear and tear Spectre had endured as a quadruped creature. Spectre crooned as Ryoken ravished his crumpled, crescent-shaped, middle paw pad with his mouth and then his tongue when it gingerly slipped out. Spectre tasted faintly of dirt but mostly of what Ryoken had become accustomed to thanks to their intimacy. Still, he enjoyed it; found a thrall in it as he worked Spectre’s squishy bumps of his almost crescent-like metacarpal pad. Then, having completed his arc, with moaning ensued, Ryoken moved further along Spectre’s paw.

He kissed and suckled at Spectre’s digital pads. Ryoken lapped at them with enthusiasm, savouring the taste however dour or aesthetically unlikeable. Spectre chuffed slightly; he keened beneath Ryoken, intrigued by the ravishment. It was outside of his comfort zone, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It felt good. Every bit and piece of Ryoken’s tiny tongue against his comparatively gigantic paw sent a tingle down Spectre’s spine. Lust congregated inside of him as Ryoken worked him so lovingly; with great care and attention to detail. All whilst his precious hips continued to gyrate against Spectre.

Ryoken grinded against Spectre’s arm whilst he occupied his mouth and mind with the calloused skin of his paw pads. The flaunting of his erection, Spectre found amusing as he relished Ryoken’s tongue on his exposed flesh. Still, he enjoyed how Ryoken’s cock glided through his fur, rubbing against what he could feel of the bone.

Despite his immense size, here and there, Spectre gave the impression of being unreasonably skinny; where flesh panned out thin, clinging to the bone. Along his forearms, where they connected to the shoulder, was one such example. But as far as Ryoken was concerned, it was all the more of Spectre to love and be loved by; like a fairy tale wolf but without the ruse of pyjamas and bedclothes.

Still, one, two, three, four five: Ryoken worked over Spectre’s digital pads in a grand and ravishing arc. His tongue was almost numb when he finished; he smacked his lips over it and looked down upon Spectre’s muzzle with a great sense of accomplishment. Behind him, he knew intuitively that Spectre’s prick was undoubtedly fully extended forth from its sheathe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ryoken asked, cocky.

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Spectre purred. “I’ve never really considered my paws to be erogenous zones, but you’ve convinced me of the merit, I suppose.”

“That’s excellent to hear.” Ryoken replied.

He carefully moved Spectre’s forearm away from himself; returned it down so that it was bunched up at Spectre’s sides with his paws cutely hooked over his chest. Then, Ryoken moved onto drawing forth his right arm to complement how he had paid such attention to his left. Spectre chuffed.

“I’d much rather you suck me off.” Spectre said.

“And I promised to return the pleasure fourfold. As it is now, I’ve barely repaid my debt with interest at all.” Ryoken teased.

Spectre bucked his hips and then arched his chest. Ryoken rolled his eyes whilst he held on tighter to Spectre’s forearm, once more thrusting past it, his cock brushing through Spectre’s fur. Unamused, Spectre permitted Ryoken to continue. He put his face to the inner of his paw and nuzzled against it, appreciating the feel of fur on his face. He followed through such niceties by beginning once more, enacting a very precise and calculated affection unto Spectre.

Ryoken began at the tip of Spectre’s carpal pad. Again, unlike the other pads, it was slightly unused as it was quite adjacent to the rest and slightly lifted off where Spectre would use it given his nearly feline gait of preferring to walk on his toes rather than the whole of his paw. Still, Ryoken gave it a good suck. He flicked the protrusion to-and-fro as he ran his tongue along it, taking it into his mouth with ease. Having grown more accustomed to the scent and taste, unlike with Spectre’s left carpal pad, Ryoken was not as curt but it was obvious that he had a preference for the other pads as eventually, Ryoken moved onwards; upwards.

He began at the farthest edge of Spectre’s metacarpal pad. He worked his way along the ridges and callouses, he lapped ardently at Spectre’s skin. He found Spectre’s hardened flesh succulent as he ran his tongue over every inch of it. Going upwards and then in a sustained arc, following the crescent of Spectre’s metacarpal pad and all the imperfections along with it. In his paw, Ryoken tasted Spectre’s travels and his hunts and more too before moving onto his digital pads.

Spectre’s paws wriggled slightly – claws flexed – as Ryoken licked and sucked at the pink buds of Spectre’s pads. Though he could hear – even feel – the sheathing and unsheathing of Spectre’s claws as he relaxed into Ryoken’s rhythm, Ryoken wasn’t threatened by it. After all, such little things were accompanied by something of a hum; a purr; a chitter. The sweet noise that all ferrets made, both domestic and monstrous, to indicate that they were feeling good. Though, in this context, it seemed to have a sexual connotation which Ryoken savoured as he ran his tongue over the plump, calloused pads.

“If I recall correctly,” Ryoken murmured as he kissed Spectre’s digital paw pads, “there should be plenty of little nerve endings here…”

“You do… You recall correctly…” Spectre squirmed with his reply.

Ryoken lifted his mouth off Spectre's paw pad having completed his second arc across Spectre’s carpal pads. “Well, how are you feeling so far?” His lips were somewhat numbed as he posed his question.

“Good, good…” Spectre cooed. “But you’ve only repaid your pleasure twice, come on now, kitty, continue, please.”

Ryoken leaned in and Spectre mimicked. He lifted his head off the ground and his neck bowed, bent inwards and their mouths met in an awkward, half-way kiss. Ryoken welcomed the bristle of Spectre’s maw meeting his mouth as it was a slightly different sensation to how the tufts of fur and hair felt between Spectre’s toes. That change in sensation partially revitalised him; it was a shame their kiss was curt. Still, Ryoken was keen to keep ravishing Spectre as he was.

With a fantastic lack of grace, Ryoken moved on from straddling Spectre’s chest as he was. He lifted himself off Spectre and toddled back around. Spectre, amused by the intermission, decided that it was necessary to make things slightly more difficult for Ryoken as he circled back around him. He moved his hips about and wriggled, his tail whipped and thudded, striking things without thought or pause. Spectre only settled when Ryoken forcibly sat upon him, straddling his tail, and reached up to the base of his sheathe. Ryoken stroked said base, enjoying how fluffy it was to fondle, until Spectre ceased his playful wriggling.

Soothed, and potentially seduced, Spectre lifted up his hindlegs to Ryoken so he could have his pick. Ryoken smiled as he glanced down Spectre’s inelegantly long body; his eyes catching on how his prick looked against his underbelly, emerged from his sheathe and again on how his throat looked with his chin lifted up so high and his head against the various pillows and bedding he possessed. All in all, Ryoken would bid him cute but those noises, growly and chittering and sometimes both, he found to be erotically enamouring – especially as he put his face to Spectre’s left hindleg.

It took Ryoken a moment to establish himself again. After all, the shape of Spectre’s hindlegs were drastically different to his forelegs. They could be likened to human arms in a way as they stretched out without any flourish. His hindlegs possessed a great bow to his knees. So, rather than hump against his hindlegs, Ryoken took to stroking the inner of his soft leg; not quite able to reach as far as his plump thigh but still far enough to feel the intricacies of the bones in his body. In that span along his foot to just beyond his animalistic shin, Spectre’s fur was somewhat thin. Still, Ryoken dirtied his hand with grease but he didn’t mind. He liked how it felt against his hands anyway whilst he aligned his mouth with Spectre’s pink and protruding carpal pad.

He sucked it gently, rolling it around his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Ryoken kept Spectre’s left leg steady whilst his right one began to kick and thump. Excitement rollicked through him and Ryoken could feel it beneath him in the way his tail flicked about, attempting to move him with it. Perhaps to throttle him into submission or perhaps just to expel nervous energy. Either way, Ryoken couldn’t help but be turned on as the vibrations did things to his body. It occupied him greatly, riveting his hard-on.

Satisfied by the greater and greater reactions he was inciting in Spectre, Ryoken moved on from Spectre’s carpal pad. He pressed his lips to Spectre’s metacarpal pad. His tongue slipped forth and he traced over the lines and ridges caked into Spectre’s skin. He left a wet trail of saliva behind as he so lovingly ravished the arc of the metacarpal pad. As he did so, Ryoken noticed that the more unsavoury smells and tastes – namely dirt – were slightly more entrenched here. And, as he considered it, he realised that his forepaws seemed to be fuller with the smells and tastes of his natural oils. Still, Ryoken was coming to relish and savour such sensations.

He moved upwards once more, towards his digital pads. He began with Spectre’s outstretched pinkie toe. He kissed just beneath where Spectre’s claw emerged from bone. Ryoken felt as though, logically, he ought to be scared of being so close with Spectre’s claws. And his fangs, too. After all, they were Spectre’s weapons and he had seen them in action. He had seen Spectre rip into all manner of prey animals and yet, Ryoken found arousal in such musings as he sucked Spectre’s pink digital pad.

By the time that Ryoken had worked his way to the other side of Spectre’s paw, he had truly riled Spectre up. His tail whipped around, forcing Ryoken to ride out each violent flick and his other leg thumped. His upper torso flailed about and he whined. His whining was simultaneously the best and worst of it. On one hand, Ryoken enjoyed how Spectre sounded, so deep in the throes of this kind of foreplay. On the other hand, it was a very pitchy and annoying noise. Either way, it felt great to know that he was so turned on. And that hit Ryoken hard in his crotch.

Ryoken drew back and he smacked his lips. He was nearly done. He glanced down Spectre’s middle again; over his prick and over his chest, unto his face and smiled to himself.

“Had enough yet?” he asked.

“Yes…” Spectre moaned.

“Unfortunate, because I’m not done just yet.” Ryoken smirked.

Spectre groaned exasperatedly. Ryoken was unperturbed as he attempted to align his mouth with Spectre’s remaining paw. He was unwilling in the sense that he would much rather have Ryoken suck and kiss his prick, but he was ultimately willing in the sense that he adored any and all lust that Ryoken could bestow upon him. So, really, it was a game. A tease. One which ended in Ryoken’s victory courtesy of Spectre’s surrender.

So, for the fourth, and now final, time, Ryoken sealed Spectre’s carpal pad inside of his wet mouth. He closed his eyes to it, and he lost himself in the revelry. After all, this was the final part of his mission unto Spectre, so he wanted to make it last and make the impression run undyingly deep. So, Ryoken overacted. He grew sloppy in his technique and ramped up his expressions as his heart thudded in his chest. The more he threw himself into the sucking of Spectre’s carpal pad, the more he resoundingly enjoyed it over the previous three.

Drawing back, at the very end of it, Ryoken let the moment linger. He let his mouth gape and a thread of saliva remained, connected, fraying and gossamer before he smacked his lips together, ruining it. There was a look in his eyes, completely lust ridden before brushing it aside and continued once more.

His lips pressed unto Spectre’s metacarpal pad. Spectre’s paw flexed whilst Ryoken’s tongue drew forth. He swirled it over the heart of the pad, where it was most fleshy, before mumbling his sweet nothings along its edges. He licked at all the lines and ridges it possessed; admiring how perfectly imperfect it was rather than some dainty and silken thing. He liked the coarseness of it.

He suckled at its peaks then dragged his mouth downwards. The taste of it was raw but Ryoken had grown used to it by now so it had become something to relish rather than revile. Content with how he had ravished Spectre’s final metacarpal pad, Ryoken moved onwards again. He loved how his lips tingled and how the excitement in them both was becoming a crescendo.

Beneath him, Spectre whined and whimpered. His voice was jagged with his lust as his body contorted, twisting this way and then that way so as to fully convey just how much of an effect such a seemingly tiny thing was having on him. After all, the cushioning of his paws housed so many sensitive nerve endings and, amid the thump of his tail whipping about, Ryoken was touching and ravishing each and every one of those little endings. Ryoken liked the ride that Spectre was putting him through. It was exhausting yet exhilarating as he began on one of the last digital pads of Spectre’s paw.

Ryoken ran his tongue along the plump curve of Spectre’s pinkie digital pad. He rolled the tip of his tongue over the convex surface, licking and lapping at it with great pleasure. He spent all too much time dragging his mouth over it, relishing how it was just that bit bigger than his mouth. After all, Spectre’s paws in general were a great bit bigger than the whole of his head and he found that size difference, the more he concentrated on it, to be arousing.

It was with a grandly heavy heart that Ryoken moved on and on. He tried to drag out and exaggerate the time that he was using but even he was beginning to run thin on the patience that he wanted to exert over Spectre. His cock was immensely hard and his lips – mouth – were immensely exhausted but it felt good. Great, even. But Ryoken soon finished and completed his debt.

He drew back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Spectre’s paws flexed – claws outstretching and drawing back dangerously – and he purred. Ryoken couldn’t help but feel like he had done a good job of himself; making good on his promise which was more like a boast.

“And now what, dear?” Spectre asked; his voice low and predatory.

Ryoken stiffened but his hands twitched. He swallowed as he felt a blush, a nice rosy red, bloom in his cheeks as he stared down Spectre. Ryoken realised that it was not Spectre who was framed by the gorgeous arcs of his legs but rather himself. The realisation made him feel small. Tiny. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. No, not at all.

“I think you and I both know what comes next.” Ryoken replied and he was suddenly very excited.

His whole body tingled as his thoughts turned jumbled. With just the question poised, the whole of how Ryoken was conducting himself shifted. He very much wanted to be mated: good and thorough, at the mercy of Spectre and his gorgeous prick. With the permission, caught on implications and smiles, Spectre took it upon himself to begin so they could both go further; harder; deeper.

But before any grace in their fucking could ensue, they had to contend with how inexorably graceless they were given Spectre’s size. After all, such monstrosity did not seem congruent to what was practical with nature, even if Ryoken relished and marvelled at it atop of him.

Thus, Spectre wriggled around a bit so that he could best ensnare his lover. Not too much lest he throw Ryoken off him, but enough to twist into a very unusual position. Ryoken’s heart began to race as Spectre showed off just how supernaturally flexible he was – and long too. He may have been inordinately long, but he had deft control of every inch of his body, it seemed. Spectre wrapped his own middle once around Ryoken’s and all whilst keeping his rump on the ground too where Ryoken straddled him. But he had certainly shortened the distance between them. Now, Ryoken was in that all too familiar coil – embrace – in which Spectre could so easily have his way with him. Now, they were eye level with each other now and far too close. He could taste Spectre’s breath on him before Spectre initiated a kiss, all twisted and coiled around like this.

Spectre found kissing Ryoken to be far too easy. It was wonderful, really. After all, kissing Ryoken was such a sweet symphony with his lewdly noisy he was; not to mention how soft he was. Humans were so adorably defenceless. From that, Spectre quite happily took and took and took from Ryoken who was far too happy to give, give, and give. He was all too happy to allow such a dynamic between them because it was deliciously rewarding in his opinion. Ryoken loved the scratchy feeling of the bristly hairs along Spectre’s maw. It made for a strange sensation which complemented how aggressively Spectre was poking his mouth into Ryoken’s. His lips, when bared, were a little bit rubbery, Ryoken found as he tried to kiss back. He also liked how Spectre’s whiskers bounced so excitedly as he lapped at Ryoken’s mouth. His tongue shooting forth, licking over Ryoken’s lips and attempting to penetrate his mouth.

Ryoken widened his mouth to Spectre and his tongue. Spectre gorged Ryoken with his tongue; manipulating it in a way to further accentuate just how big and slobbery it was. Ryoken all but choked on Spectre’s tongue as he did so - and he adored every sensation, no matter how clutter and gagging as it was. His body trembled with excitement; particularly so when Spectre, regrettably, moved on from assaulting Ryoken’s mouth as he was and chose instead to concentrate his efforts on renewing the marks on Ryoken’s neck and shoulders.

Spectre readied his prick whilst he buried his head in the crook between Ryoken’s head and shoulders. He lashed at Ryoken’s neck. He suckled on it; grazing his teeth over the skin which made Ryoken croon. Yet, there was no titbit of pain in his voice as he writhed in Spectre’s embrace of him.

“Are you ready…?” Spectre asked softly of him, opening his eyes to Ryoken and breathing steadily.

“Of course.” Ryoken replied.

He was utterly breathless. He felt Spectre pause; as though in awe and asunder of such a demure and curt reply. His eyes seemed to glow, and it was in a way Ryoken could not attribute to a trick of the lights. He got lost in their pale teal swirl and that pause strengthened and strengthened as their gaze connected so deeply and so viscerally. He squirmed slightly; licked his lips as saliva dripped past his own jowls as he lost himself in Spectre’s seductive and bestial gaze. It was utterly hypnotic.

That pause gave Ryoken butterflies in the pit of his stomach as he relaxed to Spectre. He felt wet. In such a weird and bizarre way; between his legs, so deep inside his body that it didn’t feel natural to him. It wasn’t saliva and it wasn’t cum. It was something else. A sensation; not a liquid. He licked his lips and Spectre gave his first thrust.

Spectre grunted into it as he did so. Ryoken panted and when he closed his eyes, he saw stars and clouds and the look of leaves against the sky. Something like nostalgia – memories – swirled inside of him as his body took Spectre’s second thrust upon him. His prick was slowly blunting itself to Ryoken’s relaxed hole and taking upon that unique, mustelid shape which allowed it to become an outward hook aside from penile bone.

Ryoken’s breath grew haphazard as Spectre’s constriction against him tightened. His prick continued its incessant pound in some desperate bid to insert itself into him. Something which he desired equally as desperately, too. In the meanwhile, the air inside of Ryoken was slowly squeezed out of him, yet he was quickly coming to the conclusion that wouldn’t have it any other way. That he didn’t want it any other way. He trusted Spectre to keep him safe and as Spectre licked over his neck and in his increasingly messy strokes, his face too. It was a form of kissing really, and Ryoken knew that Spectre only had his best interests at heart.

Besides, having Spectre coiled so protectively – and lustfully – around him was not without benefit. He was absurdly warm, though his fur coat was rather wiry and immensely greasy, Ryoken didn’t mind. Here, he could almost dream. Though, the dreams that he would have would no doubt be of a sexual nature given how he was so easily losing himself to the rhythm of their sex. Something so much easier given that it was their second tryst. Ryoken had always been lovely to be so up close and personal with such a creature such as Spectre; a unique and gargantuan specimen of mustela putorius furo. He was beautiful; the little thief, though not so little given his monstrous proportions. But, he was aptly putrid.

And Ryoken couldn’t care less about such a stench.

Though, that was not quite correct. It wasn’t that he could care less about it, but as he sank deeper and deeper into Spectre’s loving and lusting embrace, it was more that Ryoken couldn’t revel in it more. It was odious and awful – a deeply entrenched musk which made eyes water and noses burn – and yet Ryoken was coming to adore it as he nuzzled against Spectre, sighing and moaning as Spectre pounded him with his huge prick.

Ryoken nudged his face upwards and Spectre obliged. His mouth connected with Ryoken’s and lapped at him with fervour. Ryoken felt sharp, pointed teeth in this kiss but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He kissed back with equal passion and Spectre was adoringly pleased in reply.

Especially when Ryoken’s body had finally given way to him; just like his heart and mind had. Spectre murmured his ferret murmur: a kitschy rumble which reverberated pleasurably through Ryoken’s body and he melted into it. Spectre gave a gentle and tender thrust. He purred as he felt Ryoken, inside his warm and furry embrace, squirm. He was so cute as he struggled to take such a length upon him.

“How do you feel?” Spectre asked in a quiet and husky voice.

Ryoken swallowed. “Good.” He was breathless.

“And now…?”

Ryoken’s skin crawled. And just like that, with just a question, Spectre was able to turn that faucet on it inside of Ryoken. His prick twitched and semen began to flow freely from it. A steady stream which was grotesquely warm inside of Ryoken. He was hesitant towards it at first, disliking the ease in which Spectre could ejaculate, and then accepting of it. It felt blistering inside of him but as he took gaping breaths, he found his peace regarding it.

“Please,” Ryoken murmured, “fill me full and fuck me.”

“With pleasure, kitty.” Spectre all too lovingly replied in a whisker-soft tone of voice which sent Ryoken to heaven and back inside his head.

Ryoken tipped his head to the side and Spectre continued to mark his neck. He intently licked and lapped at it. The skin upon the boughs of his body which already discoloured from their previous session of lovemaking continued to mutate in colour. Pinks, violets, purples, and more. New bruises formed and old bruises deepened. Ryoken didn’t mind in the least.

And speaking of his mind, it was gone all but completely. Before, he had so easily fallen into clinical patterns of processing sex and how he engaged with it. He hadn’t lived with it in the moment: he took too much into consideration and was many things before being a romantic or a pervert. Right now, he was whole-heartedly throwing himself into his given role as Jill. One that he had been miffed by at first but one which he was increasingly growing attached to.

Spectre’s words from the lull after their previous tryst were about as much Ryoken could muster as he experienced such a rigorous sex. He imagined – wanted – his body to widen and round out like Spectre fantasised. To become full of kits. Or at least that’s what he wanted in the shackled throes of present sex. Ryoken’s tongue lolled as he was subject to Spectre’s pounding, thrusting, and ever unyielding ejaculation.

“You are doing very well, my dear… It’s incredible.” Spectre purred in Ryoken’s ear. “You make such a wonderful mate.”

Spectre’s breath, however sullied by the less than palatable scent it carried, tickled Ryoken’s skin. He cooed with Spectre’s words. His spine prickled as a lustful grin split across his face. He panted and his cock twitched as he whole-heartedly absorbed the praise into his lascivious bliss. With bloated, hindered movements, he looked down over himself and Spectre. The thick entwining of Spectre’s body around his middle made it impossible to see his own belly but he didn’t need to see it to ascertain its abhorrent condition. He knew it to be swollen for he could feel all his crevices glutted with Spectre’s prick which streamed nigh endless semen into him.

Minutes passed by in what was all but a dream, to Ryoken. It was certainly a dream to Spectre who alternated between kissing, licking, and biting him and whispering sweet nothings into his ears. Ryoken relished it. It all bolstered him. Bringing him back to the fever pitch from before. He returned to that exciting brink of pleasure where everything was emboldened and louder. He liked – loved – the sound of Spectre’s breathing, the feeling of his tongue raking against his skin, how it felt to be held by him.

Hailed by the thudding of his own heart, Spectre could feel his own pleasure give out. He gasped and exclaimed. His thrusts into Ryoken, subtle and squirming, grew erratic as he climaxed. His prick petered out of energy and he withdrew. The moment it was pulled back, Ryoken orgasmed as well. Their timing was out of synch but that made it all the sweeter.

Spectre nuzzled the side of Ryoken’s face. Ryoken half-hearted, exhaustedly, returned the gesture. Then, slowly though not necessarily reluctantly, Spectre drew back. He loosened his unconventional embrace on Ryoken. He shivered as he did so, slowly unwinding and unfurling from around Ryoken. Ryoken sank down, to his knees, as Spectre shook himself out. He could feel an unusual wet patch on his belly; no doubt where Ryoken had come on him.

Ryoken seemed more than content to let Spectre catch his breath and clean himself up. He, meanwhile, needed just that little moment as well. He was beyond content. His mind was hazy. He couldn’t help but place his hands on his bloated belly; one at the top, one just beneath his naval. Not quite clutching himself but certainly steadying himself amid the wooziness that he felt. It was a faint, strange feeling but he had truly taken Spectre’s words and praises to heart. He wanted to be a good mate to his lover. He wanted to see his belly enlarge with kits but surely such a thing was impossible, yet he felt weirdly wet between the legs and he didn’t think it was purely because of the cum dripping down.

Yet, with every breath, Ryoken moved further away from such thoughts. His head was spinning but slowly coming to a grind wherein he could emerge from all of that. His brows twitched and suddenly, the pleasure from before was all but a distant memory. He grinded his teeth as he recalled such blisteringly foolish and lovey-dovey thoughts. They were impossible, no matter how wrecked his hole felt. Of course, he felt wet between the legs. It was because of cum.

Spectre finished cleaning himself behind Ryoken who sat and stewed with strange thoughts and semen. He had one leg foisted behind his head and he completed licking at his sides. He nattered as he made a bed out of himself for Ryoken. He nudged him from the sides and Ryoken eased himself down. He snuggled against Spectre and felt his heart pound. It did a magnificent job for such a huge creature, so he smiled, counting the beats.

“I still don’t condone how it started but I will endorse how it finished…” Ryoken murmured, teasing.

Spectre smiled a ferret smile as he tucked his nose between Ryoken’s legs. Ryoken shifted. He felt as though it ought to be awkward, but it really wasn’t. His nose was wet, Ryoken idly noted. He didn’t even feel awkward when Spectre began to idly lick at his genitals. He swung his knee one way and watched Spectre.

“Thanks.” he said.

Spectre lifted up his head. “I told you.” He was very matter of fact and uppity about this. “I intend to take good care of you.” He licked a bit more intently after that, but the intent wasn’t sexual, or so Ryoken deduced as he stared at Spectre.

“Yeah, thanks…” he murmured.

He half-twisted around and buried his face in Spectre’s fur. He breathed in its putrid scent deep. Some people might say that it was a very bad smell, musky and unwashed, but he liked it. He liked it more than just having his genitals licked with the genuine and animal intention of being cleaned, anyway. Still, he did believe Spectre when he said that he wanted to be a good partner to Ryoken. It warmed and touched a very deep part of his heart.

So, he aimed to do the same and he would have that opportunity to soon as it was always one thing or another with Spectre. Sure, right now, it was his rut but in a couple weeks, but once March approaches in a few weeks’ time, his shedding would begin. After all, his shedding always happened around the vernal and autumnal equinoxes and Ryoken doubted that Spectre’s rut would interrupt such a thing; making him even needier for attention, yet suitably reviling of it as he was stoic when it came to these sorts of things.

But that was a while away now so for now, Ryoken wouldn’t worry. After all, he highly doubted that Spectre was worrying about such things. Not when he seemed clearly preoccupied on, how he had called it, Ryoken’s secret flower.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning for people who might want to know: from here on out, for sex scenes, I did try to use gender neutral language/keep it ambiguous but there is still a smattering of all sorts of cuss words (cock, cunt, etc).

In the two or so weeks following their latest tryst, Spectre seemed to lose all interest in satiating his rut despite it not quite being over yet. Ryoken didn’t mind, though. His body was still wracked with exhaustion from his ‘help’ in the process of easing it, not to mention the marks he had sustained from said help. His upper body, particularly either side of his neck and shoulders, were all flecked with extensive bruising, coloured in hues of violet and red. Though, he would take the hickeys on his neck and shoulders over the genital distress any time.

Speaking of which, Ryoken was glad that the redness and swelling between his legs had disappeared quite quickly after having been noticed and made a spectacle of. He wants to think it was because of the generic antibiotics the assistants who were not Genome had put him on, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it was because of the dosage. Not when Spectre acted so suspiciously evasive when it was mentioned in his presence. But Ryoken also flat out refused to believe that it was because he was oestrus and that it had been resolved by having sex. Surely there was some other explanation…

But as Ryoken stared down the rim of the toilet, arms splayed over the porcelain, dizzy as all hell and on his knees at dawn, maybe he could be convinced otherwise. Maybe. All of that had been a few weeks ago now. It was well into March now and this was the fifth time this week that Ryoken had been nauseous to the point of vomiting at strange hours of the early morning. He got over it during the day in which he would become ravenous and then, by dusk or twilight, he would have a completely new issue: diarrhea. He had been cycling through this awful pattern for about a week now. The assistants were in a tizzy, thinking it could be anything from gastrointestinal to cancer.

Ryoken wiped his mouth. He was only vomiting water at this point. Everything else he had flushed, at this point. In the haze of his mystery illness, maybe he could be convinced that maybe he was pregnant. He stared blankly ahead, head tilted slightly up, and he could see all the dust clinging to the tiny windowsill overhead. But surely it was impossible but what was more impossible, was having to live with this godawful misery. He needed answers and he would appreciate them now but as his stomach turned, he figured that baseless optimism was out of the question.

His head fell forward and lurched again. It was still mostly water. Discoloured and nasty-tasting water addled with bile, but water, nonetheless. He groaned and he came to wait impatiently for this bout of nausea to desist. His head throbbed with his mangled thoughts.

An hour and a half gratingly passed and soon enough, Ryoken had recovered enough strength to return to bed. He collapsed with exhaustion into his sheets and pillows. His whole body ached, and his headache had worsened but at least he wasn’t nauseous anymore. Though, he was starving, and he hated it. Fortunately, he all but blacked out within seconds of reaching his room.

It was probably a quarter to one when Ryoken came to and felt hilariously fine, all things considered. His headache was gone, and he was surprisingly well-rested. All he wanted – needed – to do was gorge himself on lunch. When he came downstairs, he was naturally greeted by the assistants and Spectre who was napping in the living room for once, rather than his den. Still, Ryoken had to admit, he looked pretty cute with his nose between his paws and with the sunshine on his back, lightening the colour of his fur. It was a shame he could be smelt from so far away and when his hindlegs shifted subconsciously, his erection could be glimpsed between them. Ryoken didn’t know how the assistants were putting up with him but they were and were up to their old habits; Aso was tidying up, Kyoko was reading a book, and Genome was experimenting with origami still.

“There’s still leftovers from breakfast and lunch if you want them.” Aso said.

“Thanks.” Ryoken replied, eagerly smacking his lips.

“Your darling hob also brought you leftovers, as well.” Kyoko smiled as she looked up from her book.

Ryoken groaned. But honestly, he was probably hungry enough to eat whatever scavenged squirrels and rabbits Spectre had brought back here with him. That was probably why he was dozing in the living room rather than his den; he wanted to make sure that Ryoken was recuperating. Still, he didn’t stir as Ryoken came down the stairs and started to fuss about in the kitchen. He brought back a few plates of food to eat and he was certain that he would go back for more; making yet more mess for Aso, who had abandoned the sink, returning to his place at the table.

As Ryoken ate, he figured now was a good time to air his concerns. “Anyone come up with a good hypothesis for my sickness yet?” he asked as he stuffed food in his mouth.

“Hm, not really. You don’t seem like you're dying.” Genome said.

“I fuckin’ feel like it.” Ryoken huffed.

“We could run blood tests; that’d rule out a few things.” Kyoko sighed.

“About that…” Ryoken set down his knife and fork. “I think Spectre’s right.”

Kyoko made a face. “I was only mostly joking with that. I thought we all were.”

“I never made such jokes so please kindly exclude me.” Aso said with a stern expression.

“Hm, well morning nausea… increased appetite… unusual bodily functions… Exhaustion… it would add up, save for one thing.” Genome said.

“Yeah, that’s the thing I don’t get either.” Ryoken murmured. “But…”

“But?” All the assistants echoed with increasingly piqued brows.

“I don’t think I’m dying of cancer, is all. And gastrointestinal doesn’t last this long.” Ryoken replied.

“I don’t believe one knows when they’re dying of anything, let alone cancer.” Aso countered.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’d appreciate it if I could get some straight answers from him so until then, I’d like to scientifically rule out the possibility.” Ryoken said.

“Alright.” Kyoko said. “After lunch, go and get us a urine sample.”

“Thanks.” Ryoken said.

He went to resume his lunch, but they had woken Spectre up. He lumbered into the kitchen and tiredly forced his head between Ryoken and the table. He huffed and scratched him behind the ears.

“Of course, I’m right.” Spectre murmured. His mouth split open in a sharp-pointed yawn. “I’m the one who got you pregnant.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Ryoken lovingly replied, scratching Spectre harder behind the ear; a gesture he melted into.

“My money is still on cancer.” Genome interrupted, as blasé as he was rude.

Ryoken shrugged and continued eating. Spectre continued to make himself very happy by resting his head in Ryoken’s lap, as obtrusive as it was. Still, it was endearingly annoying, so he continued to eat, even if it meant getting crumbs atop of Spectre’s head. Every so often his ear would flick, having been disturbed but he seemed content with the arrangement regardless.

Once Ryoken ate his fill, he wriggled out from underneath Spectre. He was miffed when his chin landed on the chair, so he shook himself out and petulantly plodded off. He returned to the window where the sunshine reached at least part of him and got comfortable once more.

“Well, when your experiments are complete, tell me.” Spectre announced as he put his nose between his forepaws. “We can share theories, but I know the truth. For now, all we can do is make Ryoken comfortable for the upcoming months that it takes for him gestate my kits.”

“Your kits?” Ryoken, sceptically, snorted from the kitchen.

“Our kits?” Spectre, uncertainly, corrected himself. “You seem to oscillate between acceptance and denial so for now, they’re mine.”

“How many do you want then?” Ryoken asked, sharp.

“Hm… I’m not fussy.” Spectre replied. “How about three then? Three is a good number for you, I think.”

“Very well then. I’ll be sure to let my non-existent ovaries know.” Ryoken playfully retorted.

“We’ll see who’s right in the end and I’m afraid, my dear, that it shall be I and besides, you were singing a very different tune in the throes of our love-”

“And stopping you there.” Aso raised his voice.

“Go piss in a jar for us, Ryoken.” Kyoko huffed.

Genome snickered, Spectre gave up on the conversation and Ryoken fumed because of it all. Still, he did as Kyoko asked of him. He went to one of the hallway cupboards, and he found a medical hazard jar easily enough; really, there was a selection of them because that’s just the kind of people that they were. He disappeared for a few minutes after that and when he returned, he returned with the jar full.

He sat it down, somewhat flushed, on the table. Kyoko secreted it from across the table. She sighed.

“Reminds me of when you were a child and we thought you had pneumonia.” she said, nostalgic.

“Yeah, just a regular cold that one. I just think you just wanted something to experiment on.” Ryoken replied, wry.

“Hm, true. Ten years later, still true.” she murmured. “But the boys and I will get back to you as soon as we can. Until then, have fun puking your guts out and shitting yourself to death.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna go have a nap and pray that neither of those things happen.” Ryoken said.

He nodded at Genome and Aso before moving towards the stairs. Spectre got up and started to follow. Ryoken waited on the lower steps for him. He placed his hand on Spectre’s back and let him go up the stairs first. As he ascended, Ryoken’s hand streaked down his back and left a rivulet in his fur. He thought it looked both cute and weird. He held his breath and stood flat against the wall though. Spectre passed through and then waited at the top of the stairs for Ryoken, even if that meant a lot of excessive and difficult extraneous movements.

Ryoken got to the top and he yawned. He smiled to himself and opened the door to his room on Spectre’s behalf. He came inside first, and he got into bed. His sheets were cool; the room itself was dim. Spectre curled up around his bed and placed only his head on the mattress. Ryoken sank down closer and kissed Spectre’s nose.

Ryoken thought that now might be the best time to clear the air between them. After all, it was getting cluttered with miscommunication, evasiveness, and meddling but ultimately, he decided against it. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. With just their breathing to listen to, it seemed too tranquil and serene to ruin with interrogation and frank conversation about bodily functions. So, he remained curled up closer to Spectre and tried to sleep. Something which did not come as naturally to him than Spectre who required about twenty-hours of it on average. Still, his snuffling as he slept was cute. He always found it to be his favourite white noise.

They both stirred about the same time when twilight had just begun to descend onto the world outside. Spectre yawned and Ryoken watched his mouth once more. He found it completely fascinating how well-hidden Spectre kept all his sharp teeth to himself save for when he was yawning. Ryoken still couldn’t believe he put his dick in that. Or that he had put his dick in that and had come away completely unscathed by the experience – or, at least not with any noticeable or potentially fatal scratches or bite marks on his penis.

Spectre left Ryoken’s room after that, and after flexing his paws and stretching his back. After all, it was more of a hassle for him to go forwards and backwards in this human den than it was for Ryoken. Ryoken didn’t mind but he will admit, there was a noticeable change in smell in the air once Spectre’s tail was completely out the door.

He got up after that. He was still feeling fine. Maybe it was all in his head or maybe it was just some week-long affliction and he was being a drama queen over it. He came downstairs and Spectre bade everyone goodbye on the top of his lungs. Ryoken quickly changed his mind; if anyone was a drama queen, it was their big little predator farewelling them so he could for his evening hunt. Still, he wouldn’t want it any other way. After all, Spectre frequently did this; fortunately, he was not so loud during the morning when everyone was sleeping.

But, as Ryoken wandered down to the kitchen so he could help set the table, he couldn’t help but wonder if things were slightly different. His abdomen felt funny. Not different in a bad way. Just different. If Spectre was right… If Ryoken had somehow gotten pregnant, what would happen then?

The mere thought of it darkened Ryoken’s headspace. He was still clinging to the fact that it had to be impossible. He knew his own body and he was quite certain that if he had the capability to fall pregnant, he would know. Innately or otherwise. But he entertained it anyway. He changed the scenario slightly though. He imagined that the kits in question weren’t his and Spectre’s – just Spectre’s; they were mothered – parented? – by some nameless, unimportant female ferret, a proper Jill, what would that be like?

Jealousy bit at the back of his throat. He grimaced. The scantest trace of such a creature existing made him mad and he didn’t know why but he tried to continue forward with his little thought experiment. All that mattered is that they had three – four? No, three. Three was a good and better number – kits in the house. What would that be like?

Chaotic, was his first thought. He was worried about resources. Where would they sleep? What would they eat? He didn’t worry too much about what they looked like – though, the idea of them looking like him for some reason kept leaking into the scenario – but he did worry about the other details such as how much work it would be to keep them happy and healthy.

The more Ryoken ruminated on these thoughts, the more his expression turned grim, so he sighed and gave up. He wasn’t any closer to a conclusion: both narratively and for application to his life. So, he sighed and hoped no one had noticed his reveries. All he knew was that this stomach felt odd. Not nauseous just… off.

Dinner wasn’t for another half hour or so, but they had a nice stew regardless. Ryoken found it easy to eat and he appreciated that. Over dinner, the assistants presented no new breakthroughs on the analysis but there was a strange tension which could go unsaid. The conclusion was looking likelier and likelier; no doubt to be confirmed scientifically by tomorrow afternoon or thereabouts but it was bizarre. Not currently explainable. Still, the food was good and that’s all Ryoken really cared about. Especially since tonight, unlike yesterday evening, he didn’t have any unusual activity after it.

Following dinner, he slept well until early morning. At dawn, he was nauseous and beyond, so he dragged himself to the toilet again. He caught Spectre downstairs and they parted on odd feeling terms. Neither quite knew what to say; not when Ryoken was only on the cusp of accepting Spectre’s perspective on his ailment. Still, Spectre gave Ryoken’s forehead a parting kiss before leaving the house so he could eat his fill from hunting. The moment would have been sweet were it not for the fact that Ryoken immediately had to swallow bile after it.

It was a horrible, drudging routine, what had occurred this past week but that made the blackout sleep which followed all the more weirdly blissful. When Ryoken had, essentially, recovered from this morning’s bout of hard-hitting nausea, he returned back to bed, crawling into it and he slept until well past noon. He roused, slightly more well rested than other days past, and came down into the kitchen.

As it was well past noon, no one remained, lingering and indulgent by the kitchen or dining room table. Ryoken didn’t mind. He yawned to himself as he buttered up some bread to have with whatever else he could find in their larder. All things considered he was in a good mood. A mood made better once he had gorged himself on everything that he could find in the kitchen with no thought given to if he would regret it should he get hit with more nausea or worse.

Still, once he had finished and begun putting what he had used through the sink, a feeling of acceptance settled over him. It nestled on his shoulders and inside his body. As he washed down plates and cutlery, scrubbing hard because there was nothing better to do, Ryoken’s ears pricked up when he heard the click-clack of Kyoko’s high heels on the hardwood floor. He turned around slightly.

“Oh good, you're awake.” she said.

“Yep.” Ryoken replied, murmuring as he got back to his chore at hand.

“Pick a time and place, we’ve got your results ready.” Kyoko said.

“Wonderful.” Ryoken mumbled. He sighed. “The kitchen it is then since we always have our most difficult conversations there.”

Kyoko also sighed. “That we do, that we do.”

“I’m almost done; go grab Aso and Genome. I should be finished by the time you three are back.” Ryoken said, almost authoritative, as he wiped down a dripping wet bowl.

“Understood.”

Ryoken exhaled dully whilst he listened to the sound of Kyoko’s high heels disappear downstairs into the laboratory the house sat upon. Ryoken continued to wipe down dishes and he realised, by the time that Kyoko had returned with the other two, he hadn’t been quite as quick as he thought. But, luckily for him, they were patient, so they waited for him to finish up.

The cutlery rattled when Ryoken put away the final plate on the rack. He took a heavy breath as quietly as he could, and he felt like a child when he sat down at his place at the table. He glanced amongst them. Their faces were neutral; not exactly masks but certainly hiding something. They gave him the impression that maybe he was wrong and that his mortality was going to be threatened in a very painful way; the nausea, headaches, exhaustion and diarrhoea just a prelude to the worst which was still to come.

“I’m ready.” Ryoken announced; potentially lied in an authoritative voice.

A grin split across Genome’s face almost as soon as Ryoken had spoken. “Congratulations.”

Ryoken was taken aback by the utter joy in which Genome had spoken. Confusion was quick to make a mess of his very precisely articulated expression and demeanour. His hand twitched as he failed to reply with even a grunt of acknowledgement.

“If we had champagne, now would be a good time to pop the cork.” Kyoko added.

“Champagne is not aptly appropriate for this situation.” Aso attempted to clarify but all he did was muddy the conversation.

“Though cake might be.” Genome grinned.

Aso huffed. “All we’ve confirmed is yes, there is – potentially -a zygote inside of you.”

“Wh-What?” Ryoken stuttered; voice cracking.

“We’ll wait a few more weeks before we attempt any scans since the heavens know why or how, but according to the urine sample we took, you did test positive for pregnancy and an increase of estrogen; negative to any sort of influenza, virus, or other disease.” Kyoko explained.

“How?” Ryoken madly inquired through his clashing thoughts damming in his mouth.

Aso hummed. He scratched his chin. “Humans, animals, monsters: we accept an overlap between human and animal, animal and monster, but reject an overlap between humans and monsters; saying we are inherently more good than them; just as we are inherently more superior over animals on account of our intellect. Perhaps, what is occurring inside your body right now, is an example of the overlap between human and monster, proving humans truly are the real monsters with our overcomplication of life and warmongering, amongst other vices. After all, we are all animals regardless of our morality.” Aso philosophised.

“More likely than not, I think Spectre just bitched you. So congrats, you’re not a Jill, you’re a dam now.” Kyoko said, shrugging. “Anyways, I think it could be possible. There are monsters which can breathe fire-”

“Something they can only do because we haven’t cracked the science of fantasy just yet!” Genome interrupted.

Kyoko made a face. “And monsters which can fool our eyes better than any butterfly’s wings with eye-like patterns. So, it stands to reason that, well, maybe Spectre – knowingly or unknowingly – used his own monstrous means to, well, bitch you. Hell, it could be in combination of you having a less than vestigial womb, unlike most men.”

“Excellent analyses from you all, thank you.” Ryoken sarcastically huffed.

“Of course, don’t take any of that as gospel. For all we know, yes, this could be the effect of an STI you got from having repeated, unprotected sex outside of your species but, well, the evidence is shocking.” Aso added.

“A pregnancy is basically an STI anyway.” Genome shrugged.

“Still, congratulations to you and your darling hob for conceiving.” Kyoko snickered.

“Please stop.” Ryoken said, going red.

“Of course, I went ahead and consulted a veterinarian on your behalf,” Genome piped up gallantly, “and she said that it isn’t uncommon for a Jill who’s only just come into sexual maturity to terminate the pregnancy before anything… occurs. Or, to have a false pregnancy entirely: a pseudo-pregnancy, or more amusingly for your situation, as it is also called a ghost pregnancy, wherein the Jill looks physically pregnant and hormonally congruent to such a conclusion, yet not pregnant at all. So, those are possibilities that we ought to acknowledge as well.”

“Er… Thank you?” Ryoken had no idea how to reply; his head was still reeling.

“So, how can we help to make you more comfortable during this confusing time?” Aso asked.

“I need some space.” Ryoken stated. “And then I’m going to talk to Spectre. And then, I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I would appreciate space and a sort of conversational black out on these topics until I’m ready.”

“Well, before said black out ensues,” Kyoko said, “how do you feel about Sunday morning or Sunday afternoon for your regular check-ups? As we have no idea what we’re dealing with here, I’m thinking a weekly appointment schedule will be good just to monitor any broad bodily changes you encounter; anything pressing, of course, will be dealt with as soon as possible.”

“Yes, after all, I highly doubt a creature with the capacity to grow as large as Spectre has will require forty-two days to gestate like its domestic counterpart.” Genome said.

“You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Aso admonished Genome.

He laughed, “That I am.”

Ryoken shot Genome a dirty look which silenced him. “Anyways, I think Sunday morning sounds fine for those sorts of check-ups, Kyoko.” He said. “And as of right now, our own personal media blackout ensues.”

“Understood.” the three assistants chorused with varying tones.

Ryoken nodded. He then rose, uncertainly, to his feet and excused himself. His mind was racing, and he couldn’t help but hold his stomach as he did so. He was pregnant. Spectre had gotten him pregnant. He didn’t want to believe it. He hoped that it was all some great big false alarm, but he wasn’t all that hopeful given the possibilities covered, he realised so he made his way upstairs to where his room and Spectre’s den was.

He was surprised that all the talk about his pregnancy hadn’t automatically summoned Spectre downstairs. He had excellent hearing after all. Maybe this was his way of extending some courtesy he didn’t understand to Ryoken. Ryoken took a breath as his calves ached from walking up the stairs.

He sat down, exhaled awkwardly, in front of Spectre’s door. He wanted some time to think first. He needed to know exactly what he was going to say and how he was going to say it before even thinking of entering Spectre’s den. The smell of which emanated out from the crack and honestly dizzied Ryoken. Part of him was reviled; part of him wanted to be turned on over it; part of him was genuinely turned on by it but he pushed those thoughts aside.

The assistants had barely touched on it, but they put it in his head regardless: this was some sort of perversion on his father’s goal. The very one that he and the assistants – and Spectre too, kind of – were all aiming towards fulfilling on his posthumous behalf. He wanted to create a new species; something which transcended the trinary of human, monster, and animal. Or at the very least, finally mixed them all up into one abomination.

It was a strange way of thinking about it – whatever it was – but Ryoken would be the first to admit. Just like how he was scientist before he was a pervert or a romantic during sex, it seemed that he could be something like that too, here, in this moment. So, he took a breath and he found the conviction that he needed to rise to his feet and knock on the door.

“Spectre?” he called out. “I’m coming in, if that’s okay with you.”

“Very well, Master Ryoken, come in.” Spectre permitted.

Ryoken smiled a little, wry smile. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the fact that it was a twee little conversation like this which had gotten them into this mess. It amused him to say the least as he opened the door to Spectre’s den. His nose twitched as he came inside and found Spectre all curled up with his blankets and pillows and everything else that he had dragged up here over the years to make his den special and comfortable.

Ryoken joined him on some rather soft lumps. Spectre wriggled around, bringing Ryoken into something which was a protective echo of an embrace. Ryoken smiled. Spectre was extremely warm, yet it was a rather palatable warmth that he could get lost in. So, Ryoken allowed himself to sink deeper into Spectre’s fur and flesh.

“I’m pregnant.” Ryoken said with a tentative urgency.

“I know. I’m the one who got you as such.” Spectre playfully replied; eyes fluttering close, not quite returning to his nap but offering Ryoken the invitation to join him in one.

“I don’t know how to feel about that.” Ryoken said. “We didn’t exactly have the most well plotted discourse of consent. I said yes to sex; not to having your kits. I thought we were just dirty talking…”

“If you don’t want them, I won’t force you to have them. Though, I would like it if you opened your mind to the possibility sometime later. You’re the only mate I want to take – and want to keep.” Spectre replied.

His voice was soft, mumbling but his words were genuine and articulate, nonetheless. He moved again with the slightest movements that he could muster; he placed his head in Ryoken’s lap. Ryoken happily cradled him but his expression was bittersweet.

“You’re not going to like this view,” Ryoken murmured, grimacing, “but I do want to keep them. I’ll have your kits. They’ll be ours but… But my motivation for having them, right now, as we speak, is because I want to do what my Father couldn’t. I want to create a new species, something he couldn’t do despite the grotesque resources that he used… I’ve told you a couple times, yeah?”

“Yes, Master Ryoken. You’ve told me a few times about how your mother walked out and about your father’s experiments.” Spectre softly replied.

“I have mixed feelings towards the both of them to say the least,” Ryoken sounded almost humoured as he spoke, “so I have mixed feelings about how I would want to parent my children – kits – but at the very least, I want to fulfil the ambition of my Father. In a way, with you, I can do that.”

As he spoke, he tried not to think about if the series of events from his childhood had been shuffled. It was a stupid anxiety, but it was one which clung to him anyway. If things had been slightly different, then maybe Spectre would have met the same gruesome fate as many other creatures which had been brought into this accursed house. Ryoken didn’t like to think about it but he thought about it anyway for some reason beyond him.

Spectre lifted his head from Ryoken’s lap. Ryoken brought his knees closer to his chest for Spectre to rest on but he didn’t so, Ryoken scratched Spectre’s chin. There was a strange, nearly melancholic look in his eyes before Spectre returned the favour. He pecked Ryoken’s forehead then followed through a curt, swipe of a lick along his face. It briefly brought a smile, warm and genuine, to Ryoken’s face.

“I know that when the time comes,” Spectre murmured, “I know that you will be an excellent parent to our kits.”

“Thanks.” Ryoken replied, mumbled, as he embraced Spectre. His arms wove through the thick fur around his neck and he nuzzled in.

“I’ve longed for this day since the moment we met, thank you, Master Ryoken.” Spectre said.

“You have?” Ryoken’s voice was uncertain; he didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out; he slowly inched away from his embrace on Spectre, his arms remained loosely hooked around Spectre’s neck but there was more space between them now.

Spectre purred for him. “I have.” His voice was serene: completely and utterly in love with him. “Meeting you was a godsend. Had you not brought me back here, I would have kept you in my den, one way or another.”

“Yeah, that sounds charming.” Ryoken said, sarcastic but he was somewhat amused by the image of being some dirty and feral human living under the trunk of a tree with Spectre.

“From the moment I smelt you, I knew you would be good material for bitching. Well, not quite. I recognise that feeling as a sex feeling in hindsight; at the time, I just thought you smelt really good and I wanted to be scented by you – and for you to smell like me.” Spectre said.

“I feel the same way.” Ryoken half-snickered.

Spectre took that as an invitation for him to rub his face against Ryoken’s. Ryoken smiled as he felt Spectre’s whiskers against him as well as the brush of his fur. It was nice. The intended smell was perhaps a little less nice, but he had gotten over that a long time ago.

“So, how’s your rut going?” Ryoken asked.

“Better, finishing…” Spectre murmured.

“And shedding?”

“Starting, getting worse…”

Ryoken raked his fingers through Spectre’s dense fur. Spectre purred contentedly as he did so.

“For the shedding, I’ll brush you tomorrow or some time when it’s getting really bad. For the rutting, I’ll offer some temporary relief, if you like.” Ryoken said, casually lascivious.

“Both sound wonderful, dear.” Spectre replied, a sultry look in his eyes.

He lifted himself out of Ryoken’s lap. Ryoken felt his pants tighten. He briefly wondered if that was a sensation which he was going to miss. He supposed it depended on how drastically his body changed due to the procreation which was taking place inside of him. Still, he was highly aroused as he waited for Spectre to get comfortable once more. As annoyingly impractical he was physically, Ryoken loved that physical difference between them, nonetheless.

Spectre turned the whole of himself around and plopped down the other way which was contrary to how he had been curled up before. Now, he had his rump resting over Ryoken’s lap rather than his head. Needless to say, Ryoken took the brunt of his weight, even if Spectre had purposefully positioned himself in a way which wouldn’t torture his tiny, pregnant human companion but with the immensity of his size, it was inevitable. Still, Ryoken was as good as he was going to get with it.

Spectre wriggled once more and Ryoken breathed a sigh of relief. Upon that, Spectre’s ears twitched and perked up. He ceased his incessant wriggling and finally decided that he was completely and totally comfortable. His grand belly was up, and he kept his forepaws close to his chest. Between his hindlegs, his prick unsheathed.

Before, it had been brighter in colour. A ghastly pink but now, Ryoken noticed, it had dulled somewhat. He didn’t want to bring it up lest it was a secret sore point. Still, Ryoken was more than happy to touch it. Though, a shiver of revolt went down his spine over how uncomfortably fleshy and not quite flaccid it was he ran his fingers along its side. Unlike his cock, or a human penis, Spectre’s penis had a bone in the middle of it which, Ryoken suspects, is why it feels as such. It didn’t have to get ‘hard’ when it could simply hook itself into another.

Regardless, once Ryoken had firmly grasped it, he got used to almost immediately. He stroked along Spectre’s length, toyed with the top rim of his sheathe and then went upwards again. Ryoken stole glances at Spectre’s torso. His head lolled to one side as he pleasurably moaned with his mustelid voice. It was a funny, rasping noise which was pitchy and lewd, but it turned him on anyway as he jerked Spectre off.

Spectre panted as Ryoken increased his speed. His grip became firmer, as well. He smiled, pleased, as he continued to rile Spectre up and elicit the sweetest pleasure from him. His hindlegs kicked and his tail whipped about, smacking the materials of the den beneath them. The more excited Spectre got, the more exhilarated Ryoken became. His hand came to ache as he tugged on Spectre’s prick. Amid such shambling voracity, Ryoken tried his best to pump Spectre’s prick in rhythm to how his legs kicked but such timing was just beyond him as Spectre was quite erratic as he twisted and bucked in his ecstasy.

When his more unrestrained and animalistic side was drawn forth, Ryoken thought that Spectre was sexier. Animal magnetism and all that, he supposed.

Undone by the smells and frictions, Ryoken escalated. His hands glided through Spectre’s ruff, and he followed through the motion by straddling Spectre’s lower body. Spectre shifted slightly, some attempt to tease or play with Ryoken, but all it did was remind Ryoken how much of a non-issue humans were to his great and beastly companion in terms of relative size and scale. He probably weighed nothing, sitting upon Spectre as he did. Nonetheless, he leaned over, hands firmly either side of Spectre’s prick, and planted a kiss on its corona.

He licked at the ridges thoroughly before trying to take more of it into his mouth. Ryoken humped Spectre as he did so; continually entangling his hands in his fur: anything to better make an enthusiastic mate of himself to his beloved. His own cock was so hard as he licked and kissed Spectre’s prick. He lapped at it vigorously and in turn, was rewarded with the savouring mewls of Spectre behind him.

With great effort, Spectre leaned forward; picking his torso off the floor and curled inwards. He purred in Ryoken’s ear, making him blush. His demure noises warmed Ryoken; he could feel the vibrations in Spectre’s body over them between his legs. He humped harder and sucked harder too. All too pleased with Ryoken’s efforts, Spectre nibbled at the back of his head. His teeth caught on Ryoken’s collar of his shirt and toyed with his hair. His skin prickled.

His cock strained against his pants as Ryoken continued to fellate Spectre. He reached down and tugged himself free. With one hand, he kept himself steady astride Spectre and with his other hand, he jerked himself off – all whilst his mouth remained stuffed with the tip of Spectre’s prick. He slobbered over it, huffing and panting. Spectre couldn’t appreciate it enough, stroking the back of Ryoken’s head, over and over, with his tongue, a pitchy coo accompanied no different to whispered sweet nothings.

Unsurprisingly, Ryoken climaxed first. He reared back and grinded his lower body against Spectre’s. His mouth felt numb having abandoned fellatio; his lower back arched too as he drew back, his hand still in his pants. Spectre’s taste lingered on his tongue, he mulled it over, nattering. Salty. Ryoken groaned as he came; brows pinched, fingers digging in, Spectre writhed beneath him, happy to watch Ryoken in his moment of pure euphoria, as soiling as it was, and steady Ryoken in his vulnerability. Post-orgasm bliss permeated his thoughts as his body slowed, became exhausted.

Spectre licked Ryoken’s ear, getting his attention before speaking, “You always do so well, Master Ryoken. I love you.”

Ryoken’s lips and cock both twitched. Spectre’s sultry voice almost got him hard again, but it certainly brought something of a smile to his lips. He drank the praise eagerly. Only for it to twist with guilt. His breathing began to even out again, he lifted his head and gently brought his hand up to Spectre’s jawline. His fingertips grazed over his bristled hairs; he vaguely noted that it felt spiky.

“Do you want to come in me?” Ryoken asked, more bashful than he would have liked.

“I’m quite right thank you, kitty, but thank you for offering.” Spectre murmured.

“Are you sure?” Ryoken asked, embarrassed.

“Certain.” Spectre replied.

“Alright…” Ryoken mumbled.

Spectre nudged against his face and Ryoken nuzzled back. “Go take a bath, dearest. I’m going to clean myself up in here.”

“Only if you do as well.” Ryoken said, a rare glint of mischief in his blue eyes. “A proper bath; not a sand bath, not just licking yourself, an actual bath.”

“Alright. I’ll go drag myself through the river later then, come back sopping wet and you can dry me off.” Spectre said.

Ryoken shrugged. “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

Ryoken got off Spectre. Spectre rolled around a little, miffed by his ruffled hair, Ryoken supposed. He looked pretty cute, mildly annoyed like that. He stretched out his shoulders and took a breath. He could smell his own body odour upon lifting up his arms though, he imagined that he was mostly polluted with Spectre’s stench, at this point.

“Alright, well, see you later then.” Ryoken murmured.

“Yes, see you later, my love.” Spectre chittered coolly.

Ryoken awkwardly excused himself thereafter. Then, just as Spectre had suggested, he put himself through the bath. He submerged himself in it and inhaled the steam which had become scented with the soap that he had brought with him. It was heady but beautiful; exactly the floral reprieve that he needed after having spent extended – and sexual – time with Spectre. It was nice though, to lie languid in the warm and sweet-smelling water. The stillness of the rather lavish interior of the bathroom gave Ryoken further time to contemplate his situation.

He couldn’t help himself and he feared that it was going to become a rather unfortunate habit, but as he rested his head, eyes closed to the shafts of mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the narrow window adjacent to him, he placed his hands on his belly. He tried not to think about what exactly might dwell within, for now. But as he ruminated in his bath, tired but content, he thought that he may as well as go into this next course of his life with as much dignity and grace as he could muster. He was still partially praying for a false alarm, but he had committed, and he was going to respect that he had committed. For now, Ryoken supposed, it was a waiting game and a rather grotesque one at that,

With a breath, Ryoken plunged under the water. He splashed the floor in doing so but when he came back up, with a gulp of air, he felt refreshed. He shook out his hair and smiled. He languished decadently for a few moments longer before dragging himself out of the tub and scrubbing himself down with a towel. Ryoken felt good as he got changed, still a bit damp and he let the bathtub drain. He listened to it gurgle as he turned off the lights and yawned.

Ryoken returned downstairs and found that it was time to start preparing dinner, so he helped out. He felt good, right up until he found himself wracked by unusual bodily functions as Genome had put it. And so, he later went to bed hungry that night and in the morning, he returned to the toilet only to empty his stomach of its contents from a different orifice once more to the absolute pity of those who heard him stomping around and wrenching up his guts.

Kyoko, in particular, took some kindness for him. But mostly because, in his haze of misery, he seemed to have neglected to realise that it was Sunday morning and they had agreed just prior, yesterday, that Sunday mornings would be the allocated slot of time for his general health check-ups. So, she mercilessly woke him up at about half past ten in the morning after he had returned to his bedroom and all but passed out. From there, Kyoko led him into the basement, promising tea and biscuits.

There were tea and biscuits, thankfully, Ryoken discovered as he petulantly sat down in a chair across from Kyoko who was callously hoarding said tea and biscuits because she delighted in ruffling Ryoken’s feathers. But, once she had poured out a second cup for herself and wiped crumbs from her lips, she slid the tray and saucers closer to him. Ryoken poured out lukewarm tea – raspberry and hibiscus flavoured, judging by the scent – into a teacup of his own.

“So, anything you care to report, darling?” she asked of him.

Ryoken sipped his tea. “Only that I’m starving, and I hate being pregnant, I’ve decided.” He set his cup down and ravenously reached for the iced ginger biscuits complementary to the tray.

“It’s going to get worse still, I’ve been told.” Kyoko told him sagely, eyes closed only for them to snap open as though she had had some grand revelation: “You know, when one lady in a book club is knocked up, the others generally tend to follow suit. Perhaps I ought to let Aso inseminate me.”

“No.” Ryoken bluntly replied.

Kyoko laughed; she crossed her legs. “I’m only teasing.”

“Good.” Ryoken exhaled with his reply.

“Now tell me, have you experienced any changes in your body?” Kyoko asked.

“Aside from being pregnant?” Ryoken asked, brow raised.

“Smart-mouth.” Kyoko huffed. “But that’s my fault. I should have been more specific. I meant regarding your four sizes.”

Ryoken grimaced. “My bust, waist, hips, and, um…?”

“Three out of four isn’t bad, Ryoken, but I know you can do better.” Kyoko chastised him.

“Okay, which one am I missing?” Ryoken asked.

“The four sizes I’m after are: bust, waist, hips, and penis.” Kyoko said.

“Wh-What?” Ryoken sputtered.

Kyoko shrugged as she pinched another ginger biscuit. “What? It wouldn’t surprise me if your penis atrophies over the course of your pregnancy. That fucker – or, those fuckers, since Spectre seems quite bent on you having multiple births – needs to come out somehow. And given that you seem to have been thoroughly bitched, my friend, I think we shouldn’t rule out the possibility that you might experience a second puberty or otherwise feminisation of your body.” Kyoko explained.

Ryoken blushed and he retreated into his hands. He decided that not only did he hate being pregnant because of the vomiting and diarrhoea, he was also going to hate it because it was going to give his assistants – ex-carers – yet more fodder to remind him that he was once a charge in their care and that phase was going to be an unending source of comedy for them. Thus, he very much wanted to escape this conversation. And potentially the future ones as they were weekly and last night, in his agony, he had no idea how long that was going to be for; at the very least, he had realised, thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks. But if he was lucky, those numbers would be the maximum threshold but considering that he was having these analyses with himself, Ryoken wasn’t currently feeling very lucky.

“Still, for now, as you are presently, our end goal for a safe delivery is to just cut those puppies out.”

“Kits.” Ryoken piped up unthinkingly, cringing. “Apparently I’m having kits.”

Kyoko snickered.

Ryoken stared at her with a grimace. “…Are we done here?”

“Hm, well I don’t think our little chit-chat needs to go for too long, I guess… Well, actually, in relevant matters, I won’t lie, I ducked downtown yesterday while you and Spec-”

“Oh fuck, please tell me you guys didn’t hear that?” Ryoken asked going red.

“I didn’t but no guarantee regarding Aso and Genome.” Kyoko said as she opened up the drawers in the desk that she was all but leaning on so casually as she had this awful, awful and embarrassing conversation with Ryoken. “Anyway, whilst you were… busy.” She smiled and Ryoken groaned. “I got you this.”

Kyoko handed Ryoken a book. It had a soft, almost plush cover which was a baby blue easy on his eyes. He opened it and sighed.

“This is cruel.” he said, flicking through the pages.

Kyoko shrugged. “Could be worse,” she said through a stifled giggle, “I could have gone out and bought the most obnoxious one I could find. I thought a slightly edited diary would suffice since I imagine you want to keep what’s happening another Kogami certified dirty little secret?”

“Yes, that would be ideal.” Ryoken replied.

“Still, I hope you find it useful to have a little pregnancy diary to immortalise, I dunno, the first toenail clippings from your darling kits or whatever.” Kyoko said, then hummed. “Maybe we should involve Genome in these discussions, he’s our resident veterinarian it seems. Are we expecting hairless or hairy kits?”

“I have no idea and I do not want Genome anywhere near these discussions. He has less compassion than you, ma’am.” Ryoken replied.

“True.” Kyoko replied with a sharp intonation of amusement.

“But I believe we can conclude our little meeting here, then.” Ryoken said.

“Not quite.” Kyoko said and she was quick to brandish a tape measure.

Ryoken grimaced. Then he stuffed his face with another biscuits. And then he succumbed to his fate. He allowed Kyoko to take three of his four measurements with ease. She took her notes based on the readings she got from tying her measure around Ryoken’s chest and then again around his waist and hips. They naturally came into conflict over the fourth measurement Kyoko believed she rightly required for her record keeping purposes and it was a conflict she won and parsed no judgement on. Not that Ryoken couldn’t resist tacking on a disclaimer that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss with his length as of late. Kyoko couldn’t help but laugh at his childishness regarding such a thing. After all, he happily showed her his ass crack the other day when he was worried about his apparent rash, but she supposed numerical values were more daunting than just a rough estimate based on visual input.

Regardless, with said numbers jotted down in Ryoken’s little blue book, Kyoko then dismissed Ryoken who took her tray of biscuits with him on the way out and left her with his little blue book. She was miffed but figured that it was fair since she had barely given him time to get out of his pyjamas for their little meeting. In hindsight, she realised that it may have been hasty to hold such meetings in the mornings and that they ought to reschedule for the afternoons. That seemed a little fairer to Ryoken who’s present sleep cycle was rather scrambled, and his appetite was voracious and unpredictable. So, Kyoko was willing to finish off the tea without biscuits.

The next few days which followed continued to further the pattern of morning sickness that Ryoken was experiencing. There was a little consolidation. His problems of the evening had all but quelled once the week and a bit rolled around. That was the only change in his body that he reported. The numbers of his four sizes that Kyoko recorded also confirmed that. Though, given his increasing appetite, they were expecting his weight to change slightly rather soon; a potential and apparent baby bump was also within the expectations of the coming fortnight. Still, it was approximately his fifth week of pregnancy, so his kits were likely the size of grains of rice presently.

And whilst Ryoken was still dredging through the agony of early pregnancy and all that entailed, namely the morning sickness which was something he was assured to stick around for another six or so weeks, Spectre, meanwhile, was going through his own bodily changes. After all, as the weeks progressed, the seasons changed – and quite drastically at that. The days were growing longer and warmer. That meant that his winter coat had become unnecessary and therefore, he was shedding it. not that such a thing happened voluntarily, but it was still a change that he was going through. And one that everyone had to, unfortunately, put up with. Something that Genome in particular was not too happy about as he was sensitive to seasonal allergies and found loose pet hair to be a trigger for.

Still, Ryoken made good on his promise from two weeks ago; when the shedding got bad, he would intervene. Shedding was the exception to Spectre’s private rule. He disliked having people, especially Ryoken, worry for his health but he had to admit, he adored being brushed by Ryoken so it was his one ailment that he would guiltlessly kick up a fuss about. After all, brushing him was a herculean task which required all of Ryoken’s attention, something Spectre enjoyed having completely and profusely, and it was an ailment which didn’t really detriment him so much as it was detrimental to those around him. Spectre, personally, thought his shed hairs would be useful for a nest given that they had kits on the way and the dam in question had no such excessive hair or fur to tear out later to use as bedding. Though, the mere idea of reusing said hairs revolted Ryoken quite deeply. Nonetheless, he was happy to otherwise indulge Spectre’s need to be brushed.

He and Spectre camped out in the living room as it was the most spacious part of the house. Here, Spectre could lie as straight as he could without having to curve and coil around things to fit the size of the room, which would have been the case if he was being brushed in his den. This made it easier for Ryoken to drift alongside him, brushing out his loose hairs from his thick undercoat.

Spectre twitched slightly as he felt the bristles disturb him. Ryoken was trying to be romantic though by starting at his tail and working his way upwards. They made idle conversation but for the most part, Spectre remained quiet and almost napping with his nose between his forepaws as he preferred for some reason which he couldn’t quite articulate. Yes, it was warmer and more comforting that way but there was just some unidentifiable reason to the left as well which silly humans just wouldn’t understand or so he tried to verbalise it a fair few times over the years when Ryoken had foolishly asked why he liked to hide his face when he slept.

His tail flicked about whilst Ryoken gently brushed over it, holding it down so he could get up close and personal with it. Spectre teased him by purposefully trying to writhe free from Ryoken’s grip, but he didn’t mind. It bemused him. He moved up further and began brushing down Spectre’s legs. In their own way, they were quite elegant. Ryoken enjoyed brushing down Spectre’s thighs, even if his paws did flex in ways which made Ryoken fear his claws.

He moved up closer to Spectre, straddling his legs as he brushed his lower back. Spectre chittered. Ryoken enjoyed the coarse, but sweet, noise that Spectre had made as he continued to rake through his dense fur. It felt a lot different now that he was out of his rut. It was a lot fluffier and lighter, and not just because of the thinning out of his undercoat. That greasy feel to it had far diminished.

Ryoken grabbed clumps of hair out of the brush and continued. It was slow work, but Spectre was good at intuitively knowing when he needed to roll over so Ryoken could reach to the other side of him and whatnot. He didn’t complain when Ryoken was rough with him or any knots that he came across as well. He merely purred, contented, as Ryoken methodically brushed him down.

It took almost the entire day, it felt, before Ryoken even got anywhere near to Spectre’s neck. Twilight was beginning to descend on the garden outside and Spectre’s belly rumbled hungrily once every so often, but he was still patient with Ryoken who now knelt in front of him, brushing his chest and his neck. Ryoken was nearly done but Spectre almost wished that he wasn’t as he appreciated and loved the domesticity deeply. He smiled warmly, in his own way with bristly lips and fondness, as Ryoken brushed him down.

“Thank you, Master Ryoken.” he murmured.

“It’s my pleasure.” Ryoken replied, unable to resist, he pecked Spectre’s cheek. He inhaled Spectre’s musky scent with a subdued sigh.

Spectre’s heartbeat quickened as he attempted to nuzzle back against Ryoken as he still continued to try and brush him. “Are you going to do the same for our kits?” Spectre asked, pondering.

“Of course.” Ryoken replied as he moved onto straightening out Spectre’s jawline. He recalled out whenever Spectre scratched himself there, he always wound up with huge clumps of fur between his claws so he wanted to be thorough; his fur was denser here than one may suspect.

“Good to know.” Spectre murmured.

“Is that something your thinking about…?” Ryoken asked.

“Pardon?” Spectre blinked.

“What sort of work it’ll take to look after our kits?” Ryoken clarified.

“Of course.” Spectre replied, not trying to move too much. “I worry that they’ll look more human than monster. If that happens, I’ll struggle to care for them like they need. I struggle to open doors, let alone run a bath for them. They won’t like to be licked clean if they’re like you. But, if they look like me, more monster than human, you may struggle with the workload. I don’t want that… It’s taken you all day for the fruitless effort of brushing me, for example. I’m still going to shed for a while longer, making this a pointless pursuit-”

“It’s not.” Ryoken piped up. “I got to spend time with you. That’s never pointless.”

“But the end goal is ephemeral. I’m still going to shed and be a nuisance. If our kits look more like me, then they’ll shed this much as well and we’ll no doubt have more than one of them so that’s even more time spent… I don’t want to overwork you with the rearing or our young, is what I’m trying to get at.” Spectre said.

“It’s not like we’re totally alone. We’ve got with the assistants as well. Whatever happens, happens. They might be little abominations, but they will be our little abominations. I have no doubt that even if they shed or hate having baths, it’ll all be worth it in the end.” Ryoken said.

“That is wonderful to hear.” Spectre replied and he started licking at Ryoken’s face.

He scowled playfully as he ceased his brushing. Spectre snuggled in closer, all but heaping the front of his body on top of Ryoken, clutching him between his paws and forcing him to sit down in the embrace, rather than kneel between his paws. Spectre roughly nuzzled Ryoken’s head, neck, and shoulders before easing up.

There was a look of near regret in Spectre’s eyes. It alarmed Ryoken. Made his heart pound with fear.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You have seemed a little out of it today.”

“I have? Oh dear, I didn’t mean it but… as you said. I’ve been thinking about things. Some good, some bad, some strange. I guess, we haven’t covered the bad.” Spectre murmured.

Ryoken was pained to hear the melancholy in Spectre’s voice.

“You know you can talk to me about anything. I really don’t like it when you’re evasive.” Ryoken said.

Spectre was quiet, ears flattening against the crown of his head but he did eventually speak, he asked: “Have you ever wished that things were different?” He sounded so scared, wounded even. “That I was perhaps smaller or even… human?”

“No.” Ryoken said defiantly. “Never. I think things are perfect the way they are. Even you, no, especially you. I love you, Spectre, and I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

Spectre was thrilled to hear that. There was this grand and utter joy in his eyes now. His body vibrated with a strained weasel war dance. Ryoken laughed and he adored how Spectre’s tail whipped about, jerking around but suppressed as Spectre knew well that if he were to lose control, he could break a good many things. And in the worst case, he could break more than the furniture or even the mansion itself, he could break Ryoken.

Ryoken leaned in and he scratched Spectre’s breast. Ryoken’s hand sunk into the plushness of Spectre’s fluff. His fur really did feel it’s extravagant best after a brush. He couldn’t help but be a little proud that he did such good work. Spectre nipped at the side of Ryoken’s head, causing him to tilt up and Spectre ambushed him with a surprise and messy kiss. He laughed that little bit more and kissed back into Spectre’s maw to the best of his ability. It was a silly but fun kiss, they both adored it. Even if it was full of jagged teeth and drool and they were so mismatched in size.

Still excited when he pulled back, Spectre said: “Let me bathe you.” His tail wagged thunderously.

Ryoken cringed. He physically stiffened in Spectre’s hold on him. Paws akimbo on him, still from the kiss.

“Please?” Spectre begged. “I think you need to be a good role model to our kits. I, for one, intend to be. I’ll be compliant in front of them and have ‘proper’ baths to ease any fear of water they may have. In return, I think you need to let me care for you.”

“Fine.” Ryoken relented.

He inhaled sharply. Spectre had a point. Neither of them knew what exactly was gestating inside of Ryoken. Could be a ferret kit or it could be a human baby; worse still, it could be some unknowable combination of both species. So, some give and take was going to be necessary. Besides, Ryoken had let Spectre give him a rim-job, surely this couldn’t be worse.

Spectre eagerly lapped at Ryoken. He was nearly giddy over finally being allowed to take care of his beloved master like he had dreamed for slightly longer than that of impregnating him. Spectre merely wanted to be a good mate to his beloved and he was keen to substantiate his commitment to such a goal.

Ryoken was surprised by how unaroused he was by this round of licking. He didn’t think that his body would discriminate between non-sexual and sexual licking but apparently it did on some subconscious level. Thus, Ryoken felt more awkward than turned on like he had feared. He wondered if it was the same logic as kissing. Some kisses were undeniably sexual, yet such kisses could come with overlap to more chaste, plaintive, or mutably unwanted kisses. Regardless, as Ryoken had such dour musings, Spectre was intent on making sure his human was spick and span. And that intent was clearly overriding of anything else that Ryoken may have gleaned from such voracious use of tongue against him.

Spectre vigorously enjoyed being able to wipe down Ryoken’s skin. He had a pleasant taste of faint, worn-off bergamot perfume. Spectre liked the almost citric scent, but he preferred the headier, woodier scents that Ryoken sometimes wore more. But he liked how soft and smooth and defenceless Ryoken was. That’s why humans were so successful as a species, they were so clever in how they compensated for what they lacked. They made claws out of steel and learned to tame fire. As a creature without opposable thumbs, Spectre could admire that. Additionally, even he had to admit, he preferred a house to a forest; linen bedding to thatch and so on and so forth as he completed his chaste ravishment of Ryoken who petulantly received such a thing.

Spectre released him quite quickly after that. He saw no point in trying to bury his mouth under Ryoken’s shirt or having him remove it. So, Spectre receded his mouth from the spans of skin, which were now very clean and sopping wet thanks to him, from Ryoken’s body. Ryoken wriggled out of this grip and looked bemused. He got to his feet and for once, he towered over spectre. Spectre lifted his head and Ryoken held onto either side of his face, his fingers holding onto his fur. Ryoken leaned in and kissed Spectre’s wet nose.

“Thank you.” he said.

“Your welcome.” Spectre replied, almost gloatingly.

Ryoken drew back and there was fondness in his blue eyes. He crossed his arms.

“You’re going to go take a human bath now, aren’t you?” Spectre laughed in good nature.

“Yep.” Ryoken bluntly replied.

“Very well then, hurry along.” Spectre said. “I might go and catch myself some dinner as it’s nearly dark now.”

“Enjoy.” Ryoken said.

“I shall. I’m in the mood for venison.” Spectre said.

Ryoken snickered at that. He couldn’t lie. Venison did sound good all of a sudden now that it had been mentioned but honestly, many red meats in general got his mouth to water. And so, did anything rather sugary such as biscuits or cake. And he wouldn’t mind some buttered bread, too or plenty of other things. Ryoken realised that he was quite hungry now that Spectre wanted to go hunting; his hand hovered by his middle awkwardly.

Spectre, in the meantime, got up slowly and shook himself out. Ryoken sighed when he noticed loose hairs come loose in the wake of Spectre’s movements. They and many more dust mites drifted in the air in the very late evening sun which was just streaming through the window. Ryoken sighed again and when he thought of how much “fun” he was going to have tomorrow doing housework and ridding the living room of all the hair it had accumulated after today. It was some consolidation that Spectre was very respectful of his surroundings. He was careful as he moved, avoiding both Ryoken and the furniture before making his way outside. Ryoken waited for Spectre to leave before going and taking his own bath.

The rest of the evening passed without consequence. When Spectre returned, he returned boasting of having an excellent meal of venison like he had pleased and then declared himself done for the day and completely exhausted. Ryoken rolled his eyes at that. Spectre had spent most of his day, as per usual, dozing, after all. Ryoken, himself, retired for the night not too long after.

When he got into bed, he couldn’t help but notice how cool the sheets were. Ryoken almost melancholically wrapped himself up in them and rolled over so that his back was to the wall that he shared with Spectre’s den. He had spent practically all day with Spectre, and he had spent a good portion of it wishing that he was far smaller and far less smelly than he currently was, and yet now, in his private time, he was doing that again. He was wishing for his terrible-smelling companion was with him once more. Ryoken missed when Spectre was small enough to share a bed with him.

Ryoken rolled over again, careful of how he was shifting and decided that he wasn’t lonely. He just wanted to keep doing sweet, peaceful things with Spectre. They were mates. He didn’t know if that meant sleeping separately in ferret terms, but on human terms, surely meant that should not. Though, some rational part of Ryoken’s brain was reminding him of Spectre’s stench and that Ryoken would surely overheat due to his thick fur. Still, in what Ryoken was going to call his kitty brain, demanded otherwise. Regardless, Ryoken slept all through the night in his bed all by himself. And for the first time in a while, he avoided a morning spent vomiting though such ire did later return to his clipped joy.

The rest of the week also passed without consequence. Though, it did shortly prove that Ryoken’s joy was short-lived as he returned plenty of times to the bathroom in the morning after his brief reprieve. And outside of that, when he was feeling hale, Ryoken spent most of it doing housework in vain or trying to rid Spectre of his shed hair. Like an imp, he enjoyed the extra attention from his lover. The assistants meanwhile were happy that they had escaped such chores such as sweeping and dusting as Ryoken had taken it upon himself in conjunction to being Spectre’s personal groomer.

Although, once Ryoken’s afternoon appointment with Kyoko rolled around, as it predicted, he had put on a little bit of weight and his numbers had changed. Most obviously, his midsection had taken upon a slightly more rotund appearance, inflating the size of his girth though fortunately, it was only worth a handful of centimetres currently. However, further up his chest, Kyoko measured a slight change in numbers which may indicate or otherwise foretell that breasts may develop and come through. News which made Ryoken groan and grumble, but he took a breath and continued forward with dignity and grace, after all, such things were only going to grow worse with each passing week. Though, such knowledge did little console Ryoken further than giving him a workable façade.


	5. Chapter 5

Week by week, Ryoken’s life became more and more entwined into the neat blue lines of that little book. The numbers recorded inside of it changed, bit by bit. Some went up, some went down: all of it reflected a genuine and perceptible change in Ryoken himself. His baby bump was beginning to come through but was only noticeable when he elected to wear tight shirts. Something that he was beginning to edge away from with some difficulty as his favourite shirt was pink and made him look quite buxom. And speaking of becoming quite buxom, just as his baby bump was beginning to come through, albeit quite ambiguously, as were his breasts.

Beyond the very curt and excruciatingly awkward talks he had with Kyoko, Ryoken tried not to think too much about what was becoming of his body. He didn’t want to admit it, but it kept him awake at night. He didn’t think that he was feeling any movement from the kits inside of him but there were certainly plenty of other related anxieties to occupy his mind with. He had taken to slipping his hands under his shirt whilst he stared up at the ceiling. He could feel his pecs shift and become, well, womanly. Fatty, he supposed. They were small yet soft and warm. He kind of liked it as it was bizarrely comforting. Still, Ryoken kept his rationale regarding his bodily changes simple. So long as he recognised himself in the mirror, he supposed that he would be content. He felt like himself and he looked like himself, no matter how certain weights looked upon him. Though, he will admit that he did look increasingly androgynous – and he quite liked that.

But Spectre liked it more. He was made ecstatic by any little development that Ryoken cared to inform him of. Not to mention, he had exceptionally keen eyes and had just as much subtly as an impossibly enormous ferret could have, so Ryoken knew, with far too great a certainty, when he was being checked out or even felt up. Spectre had recently taken to not just caressing Ryoken with his beautiful blue eyes but nuzzling him in places Ryoken found increasingly suspicious.

It was one thing when Spectre decided to lavish him by rubbing their cheeks together and licking at his face, it was another thing when said affection continued to steeple downwards. Honestly, Ryoken couldn’t believe that the ever-pervading question of “ass or tits” wasn’t strictly human and that his ferret would have a seeming preference, particularly towards the latter item. Though, Ryoken couldn’t say that he wasn’t flattered.

He couldn’t say that he was turned off by it either or made to feel awkward due to it. If anything, he was made to feel turned on by it. He didn’t want to be. The thought of being sexually active whilst pregnant made him uneasy to say the least even though he was already well aware that sex during pregnancy, at least between humans with humans and ferrets with ferrets, was safe. It was just the principle. It just seemed unbecoming but with the weeks flying by, he was up to his fourteenth week or second trimester, so were the hormones.

For the most part, that just meant yet more toilet related trials. Ryoken may finally have overcome his morning sickness but other ailments were quick to plague him in their vanishment. Namely urination; he was doing that a lot more frequently than he wanted and that in turn had other tribulations associated with it. Mostly because he was beginning to notice changes to his genitalia; not just a shrinkage in length but other things too. He didn’t want to say it aloud, but it was a possibility that Ryoken couldn’t ignore. Somehow, it seemed that his penis was shifting into a vagina. And that was having all sorts of implications that he didn’t particularly want to interfere unless it got distressing and presently, it was not.

But it was getting unbearable. Between his hormones and the bizarre pressure that Spectre, his mate, was putting on him, Ryoken found himself getting hot and bothered when he didn’t want to be. It was driving him mad and as the weather warmed, so did his body. Coupled with his unwillingness to masturbate, Ryoken finally gave up.

So, he bided his time. He waited all day until the moon rose and for Spectre to return from his evening hunt. As per usual, he enjoyed his kill, a deer tonight, outside so he wouldn’t get blood and viscera on the carpet but once he came inside, fur cooled from the night, Ryoken made his move when Spectre drew in closer. After all, it wouldn’t be right if Spectre didn’t kiss his mate good night, so he visited Ryoken in the kitchen, where he was idling himself in pretence of letting his stomach settle.

“Good night, Master Ryoken.” Spectre whispered to him, lowering his head to Ryoken.

Ryoken smiled and he lifted his hand to Spectre’s jawline, brushing over his fur. “Spectre, do me a favour,” he murmured, “go upstairs but meet me in my room. I have a little request to ask of you.” His voice was husky.

“Understood.” Spectre replied; his eyes widening in excitement and Ryoken couldn’t wait to confirm that sparkling hope.

Ryoken’s smile turned impish upon hearing that so he lifted himself a little higher. He pecked Spectre’s bristly lips and Spectre couldn’t resist. He curtly licked over Ryoken’s mouth once or twice upon having been kissed. Ryoken felt tingly and then wistful as Spectre retreated. A growl got stuck in his throat and Ryoken’s stomach knotted. Spectre then excused himself from the kitchen and with lusting eyes, Ryoken watched as Spectre headed upstairs. His eyes trained especially keen on Spectre’s rump moved; he couldn’t help it. The way his weight moved between his legs was noticeable and the flick of his tail was rather adorable.

Ryoken got abruptly once said tail had disappeared around the bend. It was fortunate that none of the assistants were present to observe him. All of them had retired to their own bedrooms for some after dinner relaxation before bed. No doubt, his intent could be read from his body language with barbaric ease. Ryoken was quick to ascend the staircase and return to his own quarters.

When Ryoken got to his own room, he found the door open, hanging, and he closed it discreetly behind him. He turned on the light and clumps in the darkness revealed themselves, namely in the form of his lover. Spectre was waiting for him from the other side of his bed so that his own body did not obstruct the doorway to Ryoken’s bedroom. Regardless, Spectre’s own eager eyes trained on Ryoken as Ryoken took the sight of him. He looked so adorably impatient, with his chin resting on the top of his made bed.

“I think I know why I’m here.” Spectre purred upon lifting his head slightly. His tail began to thump behind him which amused Ryoken greatly.

“Oh? That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Ryoken teased whilst he unthreaded his belt from his waist.

Ryoken very tenderly undressed himself for Spectre. He felt more awkward than attractive as he did so. Especially given the changes that his body had recently undergone but he knew such hesitations were preposterous. After all, Spectre revelled in them, so he was more than happy to get out of his underwear for that.

Ryoken then positioned himself very carefully on his bed. He spread his legs apart, sitting down, so that Spectre would be perfectly framed between them. Spectre drew in a little closer, his body slithering against the floor as he got comfortable. He nosed about between Ryoken’s legs, at the top of his thighs and over his genitals. He huffed and Ryoken shivered.

“Pl-Please…” Ryoken whimpered, face going red.

“With pleasure.” Spectre chittered.

He tongued along the top of Ryoken’s thighs. Spectre lapped at the veins visible on Ryoken’s thighs as he lovingly worked his way inwards. He then dragged his tongue towards Ryoken’s cock; something he did notice as having decreased in size, especially since his testicles had begun to recede, too. Still, Spectre adored every inch of Ryoken, and he was determined to prove that to him. He licked, messy and drooling, at Ryoken’s genitals, not minding once how Ryoken might feel regarding such caresses from his scratchy tongue.

Though, based on how he vocalised, it seemed to be a non-issue as Ryoken shivered. He closed his eyes to it but with a sharp breath, he was still having revelations. Spectre’s tongue never got any softer; always remained the same and coarse yet he liked that texture. He liked how it sent shivers, even shivers of pricked pain, down his spine. He panted as he bucked his hips to Spectre, exciting him.

Spectre’s tongue then slipped down, beneath, and then plunged through. Ryoken squeaked as he tried to suppress the feeling of being ravished as he was. It was weird. He wasn’t getting hard. He was basically flaccid and yet, he was undeniably turned on. He felt good. Extremely, so as he melted at Spectre’s touch, no matter how destructive the caress. Blood surged through him as he took every lapping of Spectre’s tongue with pleasure. He wasn’t getting harder, rather wetter – he just didn’t know where outside of a vague pulse between his legs.

Judgement of such feelings were only further skewed when Spectre’s tongue plunged past his rim. Ryoken’s legs kicked at Spectre lapped at his threshold. He groaned and Spectre revelled in it. The noise was sharper than Ryoken would have liked; pitchy, higher, pith. More and more, Ryoken was stirred up unto a frenzy thanks to Spectre’s deft tongue until he couldn’t bear it no more.

He came and he felt as though his heart were fit to burst. He shoved his genitals fiercely against Spectre’s face as he orgasmed. Spectre continued to lap at him, adoring Ryoken’s euphoric crescendo. His heart hammered and hammered until Ryoken just gave out. He exhaled, hearty and languid, and felt himself slip back as pleasure erupted from every nerve in his body. He ejaculated with his voice alone. Spittle flecked his mouth as his throat went raw from the noise that he made.

Ryoken looked down upon himself. He came. He definitely came and yet, there was no tell-tale hallmark of it; a white mess of semen. His brows furrowed as he stared over himself and over the top of Spectre’s head as Spectre still, almost dutifully but mostly fervently, continued to lick him to little avail of arousal. From that alone, Ryoken was exhausted but still thankful for Spectre's methodical technique, lapping him over and over.

Ryoken leaned forward and ran his fingers through the fur over Spectre’s forehead. He stroked downwards and then playfully poked Spectre’s nose. He lifted his head, drool dripping from his jowls, and met Ryoken’s eyes. His tongue slithered back inside of his maw then quickly flicked over his lips to make him seem more presentable.

“That’s enough, thank you.” Ryoken told him softly, still petting him. “That was very nice.”

“My pleasure then, kitty.” Spectre murmured. His head moved in closer to Ryoken’s body, namely his belly. His whiskers streaked against Ryoken’s stomach and he felt ticklish as he did so. He felt Spectre’s warm breath on him. “You are beautiful, Master Ryoken and each day which passes, you become more so in my eyes. I cherish it.”

Ryoken swallowed. He blushed. “Do you want to stay? Cuddle?”

“Of course, anything you desire.” Spectre said.

“Feel free to get as comfortable as you like.” Ryoken said as he squirmed about.

Ryoken didn’t bother putting his clothes back on. He felt oddly at peace with his current nudity as ravaged by Spectre’s mouth. So, he simply settled into his bed, tugging on sheets and blankets to warm himself but he didn’t expect them to be too useful. Once he settled, Spectre took his turn as well.

Spectre circled Ryoken’s bed once or twice as he tried to optimise how best to sleep with Ryoken. It was no longer as simple as crawling up onto the mattress and getting under the sheets with him like when they were younger. Instead, Spectre ended up half off and half on the bed. His head beside Ryoken’s at the top of it and the rest of his body spiralling outwards, looping and lacing over it at sheer angles which made Ryoken worry as he snuggled in tighter against what was applicable to Spectre’s body.

“Are you sure you're comfortable?” he whispered.

Spectre snickered. “You know me.” he said, amused. “I am most comfortable when you deem it necessary to ask that.”

“Yes, that is annoyingly true.” Ryoken murmured as he closed his eyes.

Ryoken didn’t really get it but if Spectre was happy, then so could he. He breathed deeply and admired Spectre’s scent. It was more akin to grass clippings nowadays than anything outright putrid, but it still remained heavied with an odious musk but Ryoken liked it. He liked how soft Spectre’s fur was too. He listened to the sound of his mate’s breathing and, for the first time in weeks.

“Spectre…” Ryoken mumbled. “Do you ever wish we could sleep together more often? I feel like we’re joined at the hip sometimes, but I feel like it’s still not enough sometimes.”

“We have very different sleeping patterns and needs. It’s an indulgent wish, but yes…” Spectre replied.

“I see.”

Ryoken was made weirdly happy by the reply. He was glad that Spectre felt the same but that made it all the more bittersweet.

“Should we start preparing a nursery for our kits?” Ryoken asked. “Perhaps plan it tomorrow, enact it over the next week?”

Spectre laughed. “Nesting already, are we?”

“W-What?” Ryoken stuttered, going red. “I am not nesting. I’m just trying to use a little foresight. If we decide that big changes are necessary to accommodate our… little ones, then it’s better sooner than later.”

“I understand.” Spectre replied. “I’m glad you’re thinking about these things, though. It’s sweet. Does that mean you’ve accepted your role as parent, not just biologist?”

“We’ll see.” Ryoken snickered and he stretched out his arms to Spectre’s neck, entwining them in an embrace which he nuzzled into and had the affection returned. After that, he drifted off to sleep without a nary worry in his head.

Spectre’s restful whinnies and other assorted noises that he made, truly made for Ryoken’s favourite lullaby. Thus, a peaceful sleep ensued. It was a shame that it couldn’t last forever, or at least until well into the morning but unfortunately, nature beckoned. His tummy rumbled and Spectre grumbled and groaned in reply. Even as Ryoken, unconsciously, cuddled up to him in some petulant demand to stay but, unfortunately for him, Spectre’s instincts lorded over him more than his precious human, waking them both in the process.

Ryoken stirred. He watched as Spectre’s body coiled about and he dragged himself away from the bed. His hindlegs were almost slippery as they were brought out from the other side of the bed. Ryoken shivered. His skin prickled and he had almost forgotten that he had fallen asleep naked last night after receiving his dose of oral sex from Spectre. He smiled as he recalled last night only for it to curtly sour since he was going to miss having such a warm flea bag around in bed. He moved his legs as he started to reach out for something to wear.

Then he felt something. His calf brushed over something wet. Ryoken almost thought, for a moment, that it was simply his own cum but then he remembered. He hadn’t cum last night in the way that he considered most traditional for himself; his orgasm had been dry. A prickle of fear, deep and animalistic, went down his spine as he looked for the source of it.

Where he had been sleeping, there was a streaking wet patch. He swallowed as he moved himself awkwardly once more to get a better look. The fluid was white and thin.

“Spectre…” Ryoken called out, worry saturating his voice which was fit to break.

Spectre shook himself. He twisted around partially as he had his nose out the door by this point.

“Yes?” His voice was nearly equal in concern to Ryoken’s.

“Go grab Kyoko… something’s wrong.”

The wobble in Ryoken’s voice, terrified, caused the whole of Spectre’s body to go on edge. His fur bristled and he felt something beyond him take over his entire soul. A fierce and protective instinct which had him fearing for his kits’ lives yet oscillate with guilt: what if he had somehow caused this emergency that Ryoken was experiencing?

Regardless, Spectre was swift to descend downstairs and get to the other side of the mansion where the assistants made their private quarters on the opposite wing. He had never sprinted quicker or in a more streamlined way: all his thought and energy was channelled into getting Ryoken the help that he needed whilst he laid, paralysed, in his bed. The thundering sound of Spectre’s paws echoed through the house; loud, noisy, and in total disobedience of the past decade as Spectre never, if rarely, broke the rules that were in place. He was supposed to be quiet when he disappeared for the two hours or so that it took for him to go out and hunt so by the time that Spectre arrived, coming skidding to a halt, the assistants were already up – with varying levels of concern and readiness.

Aso and Genome hovered outside by the door when Spectre returned with them. Kyoko took the active role given that she had become the sexual health and pregnancy liaison amongst them all for no reason other than that she was a woman. A fact which was irksome but to be fair, if she was pregnant, she wouldn’t want Aso or Genome around either as the former was spineless and the latter was heartless.

She sighed, folded her arms as she looked at the frantic mess on the bed: “So, what appears to be the problem? I was expecting blood and now, I’m disappointed.”

“Th-That’s not semen…” Ryoken murmured.

Kyoko blinked. “It’s probably leukorrhea then. Also known as vaginal discharge; it’s harmless, you fools. In fact, it’s good for you even. It means everything is working as it should… But it does hail as a slightly different omen for you, huh, dear?”

Ryoken grimaced. He didn’t know how to reply to that but at least hearing that caused his nerves to settle.

“I’m going back to bed.” Kyoko yawned as she patted her mouth. “Well, I’ll see you on your regularly appointed schedule. In the meantime, invest in some cloths to pad out your underwear with. Leukorrhea is a bitch like that.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Ryoken mumbled.

With that, the issue was resolved and in turn, became the only notable event of the week. Though, there was little reprieve thereafter. In the following week, Ryoken began to experience his next round of aches and pains related to his condition. Everything from pins and needles to a stuffy nose to sudden, sharp pains in his sides. It seemed that he just couldn’t catch a break which had led him to a rather interesting path of comfort food. Luckily, Spectre, not just Kyoko, was monitoring his diet to make sure that he didn’t just binge on whatever he felt like and was getting all the nutrients that he needed to his sulking which ensued thereafter. Not to mention, his breasts which were coming through still were becoming more prominent and his weight proportions were changing. He looked a little bloated but with his hips doing strange things, namely coming inward, he was beginning to take on a more feminised appearance, all things considered.

Something which became even more jarring in the week which followed as his belly had “popped”. And with that came all sorts of anxieties. Ryoken was already something of an elevated shut-in or hermit prior to becoming pregnant but now that it was obvious that something was amiss with his other classically male body made him even more self-conscious furthering his own self-imposed isolation. Still, he was probably getting good social interaction. Spectre was around as much as possible, far too enthusiastic to do whatever he could for his mate, and Aso was roping into conversations completely unrelated to his condition too, whenever he could to help offset that all-consuming enthusiasm. Genome was, well, being Genome. And then, of course, he had his weekly meetings with Kyoko, and he was learning all sorts of things.

He was indeed having kits. Spectre’s insistence that Ryoken was going to have multiple live births was founded. Though, they could be sure how many there were; all Kyoko was able to assess was that Ryoken was pregnant with multiple foetuses so they could be twins, triplets, or so on and so forth. Ryoken was really hoping that he was not pregnant with anything beyond so on and so forth. Additionally, they were all probably as big as an assortment of lemons; perhaps bigger, perhaps smaller. It was difficult to discern given the inhuman nature inherent to them thanks to Spectre’s involvement in the copulation they had resulted from.

Still, the fact that Ryoken was, safely and successfully, fourteen weeks into his pregnancy was something to be marvelled at. His body was accommodating the changes well, all things considered. He was as well. His simultaneous detachment to the offspring as their scientific observer rather than parent may have been the cause for it but all in all, he was taking in stride as best as he could. Even when hormones, and other things, caused that façade to break down. Baby brain – kitty brain? – was not something Ryoken was exempt to.

From forgetting things or otherwise misplacing them to bouts of all sorts of erratic moodiness, not to mention how fragile he was feeling even more generally, it seemed that everything about his condition weighed on him, and not just over his belly. And speaking of it, it was becoming bigger and more rounded by the week. Which, by the eighteen-week mark, would come to culminate as a very exciting milestone: movement.

Ryoken was taking a cat nap in the living room, he was taking more of those nowadays, especially when he felt unfairly sore and Spectre, being his own charming self, was more than happy to accompany him. The pair made such a cute scene; though, since becoming a rather happy couple, it was difficult for them not to be. Ryoken splayed out on the lounge, legs up to relieve pressure from his swollen ankles, and Spectre on the ground, body curled around the lounge, melding to its shape as though he were liquid.

Spectre, naturally, had his nose between his front paws once more, as he so preferred and his ears were flattened against his head. He was content, once more providing Ryoken with his favourite white noise; his various snores and sniffles as he slept. But his sleep was shallow; unlike Ryoken who was completely gone.

Spectre stirred. His ears flicked. There was a thrum between his lips. Something was amiss but he couldn’t quite ascertain how. He lifted his head up. He turned it onto Ryoken, and his miffed expression softened. He looked so content in his defences dreaming. Spectre lifted the rest of his body off the floor. Maybe he just needed a change of position. He shook himself out and he felt stretches along his spine, on the right side of his body primarily, which felt stiff and sore from being propped up against the lounge.

He manoeuvred himself around as much as he could. Almost sulkily as before, he had been lying parallel to Ryoken, head to head, like lovers, but now, if he was going to rest the right side of his body, that meant sleeping with his left side against the lounge and therefore sleeping at Ryoken feet, like some common pet which was nowhere near befitting their relationship.

But something stopped Spectre in his tracks. His ears flicked. Every now and then, he had been hearing odd noises. He always heard odd noises; it was something like an animalistic form of tinnitus. Usually, he just ignored such things, letting them fade low until they simply didn’t exist. That was just his life as accursed with rather fine-tuned hearing but finally, it had caught his attention. He had become conscious of it, just as he was about to settle down on the floor beside the lounge.

Ryoken sighed in his sleep. He moved his hand slightly and Spectre drew in closer. He bent himself around, trying to take up as least room as possible. He nosed against Ryoken’s hand. Disturbed by it, Ryoken played into Spectre. He stroked, irritably, at Spectre’s bristly muzzle. Spectre continued to do so, making it a point to rub against Ryoken’s belly.

Ryoken opened his eyes and huffed. “What are you doing?”

Spectre lifted his head. His eyes were shining with something – some form of affection, blue and stunning. Ryoken couldn’t help but stare before snapping back to his own question.

“Seriously, what are you doing…?” he asked. “I mean, I know you’ve got just as many pregnancy hormones as me, but seriously, my love, what are you doing?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Spectre asked.

“Noticed what?”

Spectre edged away from Ryoken. Ryoken huffed and took the opportunity to sit up rather than remain lounged. He was beginning to feel awkward and annoyed at his current angle. He groaned as he rearranged the pillows behind him.

Spectre waited patiently for Ryoken to get comfortable before hefting his right paw up onto the lounge and then atop of Ryoken’s belly. Ryoken grimaced.

“Spectre, even your paw is heavy.” Ryoken blandly scolded him.

“I can feel it.” Spectre said. He sounded beyond giddy.

Ryoken’s eyes widened. “I can… too.” His reply was breathless.

Spectre squirmed and planted both forepaws firmly on the ground. Further down his body, sweeping to the side and away from the lounge, he practically vibrated. His tail excitedly whipped around. A reluctant, yet happy, grin began to split across Ryoken’s face. Tentatively, he placed his hand, as gentle as he could, on his belly. He could feel it.

Movement.

Ryoken couldn’t believe it. His kits – Spectre’s kits; their kits – were moving inside of him. Noticeably. After all, logically, they had always been moving; hearts beating, paws flexing, lungs quivering, and so on and so forth. But now, they had reached one of the more glamorous milestones of pregnancy.

“This is…” Ryoken murmured. “Really fucking weird.” He laughed.

“I would imagine so.” Spectre was equally playful.

Ryoken grimaced but was oddly giggly instead. “Should we tell the assistants?”

“It’s up to you.” Spectre replied, a smile in his voice as he nuzzled against Ryoken’s belly; whiskers twitching. He could feel the vibrations down his muzzle from his kits inside his mate, it got him all sorts of excited, but he would try to remain composed.

“Maybe later then.” Ryoken said.

He scratched Spectre behind his ear. He was amused by how… paternal, for lack of a better word, Spectre got sometimes. It made Ryoken feel strangely more comfortable in his position and in his condition. He appreciated that. It was also true in reverse; Spectre knew when Ryoken was having unusually fond or nostalgic thoughts about him. They were becoming frequent and lovey-dovey thanks to the past few months. So, Spectre liked to be appreciated like that. He enjoyed being the apple of Ryoken’s eyes.

In Spectre’s opinion, there were plenty of things to appreciate about Ryoken. Since they had come to these roles as mates, and ones with kits on the way, there had been a great many more things for Spectre to appreciate regarding Ryoken. And he wasn’t just saying that because he seemed to have a fetish.

Ryoken was genuinely beautiful. He was proof, to Spectre, that humans were perhaps good for more than ruining the environment or imposing themselves over creatures they were barely separated from; genetically, morally, and in many other ways. Spectre truly detested humans, though he tried to temper himself, but it was ingrained into him. They were of different species, competing for domination and human ingenuity was something which scared him. They built nests which were nigh indestructible and made weapons which could conquer even the most well equipped of beasts.

His claws may shred, and his teeth may eviscerate but he was limited in other ways. Even then, as a kit, venturing out from his den, human children he encountered would throw rocks and their caretakers would threaten him with something worse. Nowadays, if some barbarian so desired, then they could take a pistol or similar to Spectre’s head and there was little that he could do against a bullet. Fortunately, hiding himself in this human nest did give him one advantage which was notoriety.

But not all humans were like that. There was Ryoken among them and he was a blithe exception. And that endeared Spectre to him. He was a kind soul, riddled with guilt; particularly of an animalistic origin given his father’s experiments but that endearment turned to adoration.

Spectre loved him. He loved his stubby, human fingers and his human eyes, like crystals in colour, yet so useless in the dark. He loved his nose and its blunted sense of smell which had skewed over the years, secretly Spectre was thankful for this. He also loved Ryoken’s size, so tiny compared to him, a great and grand ferret, and his white hair with lilac streaks and all these other little things which made him human.

Simply put, Ryoken was very attractive to Spectre despite his humanness. Maybe even, because of his humanness. After all, Spectre could not envision himself ever be attracted to one of his own kind; not that he had ever interacted with his own kin…

Regardless, Ryoken was his and that proof was etched onto his very body which made Spectre very happy. Not just in the sense that his middle had grown so gloriously round with Spectre’s kits and his chest had fattened, soon to produce milk. After all, those were temporary measures, to Spectre’s tepid dislike. One day, soon he was hoping, Ryoken would have such kits and his body would change, drastically, again and once more, the marks of Spectre’s love and commitment would disappear once more.

Hickeys and similar such bruises faded but as of late, something more permanent had arisen on Ryoken’s body to symbolise proof of his mating to Spectre. Though, Spectre had only been told that they were more permanent than his current state or compared to hickeys. He was understandably a touch sceptical of these markings, but he loved them, nonetheless.

The pink, jagged stripes over Ryoken’s hips and even on his breast. Stretch marks, was what Spectre had been informed they were called. Spectre loved them. Loved what they meant to him, personally. Ryoken couldn’t care either way and honestly found Spectre butting his head against his hips and breasts to be something nuisance rather than adorable.

And such affections did not cease when Ryoken developed a Linea Nigra, as well; if the appearance of stretch marks weren’t enough. At least this mark wasn’t permanent. It was still quite visible though; a dark streak over his belly, bisecting through his naval and even reaching down over the curve before the mound of his genitals. Naturally, Spectre adored it. Not only did he think it made Ryoken even more beautiful in his pregnant state, he also thought that it made them match.

At first, Ryoken had been confused by such an assertion. Though, Spectre did often say odd things, but he did elaborate on this one. He was all too proud to show off his own underbelly and amid his thick fur, Ryoken saw it. The same separation of rows like crops of wheat on a farm, there was a sole streak of separation down Spectre’s sternum when looked upon closely. Ryoken was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it previously but the further away from winter they got, and it was presently the thick of summer, the skinnier Spectre seemed. So, his fur was thinner and thus allowing for optical illusions such as this one.

Ryoken liked it though. He fondly agreed with Spectre once the topic had been resolved and, of course, scratching Spectre behind his ear with a smile to affirm such a thing.

But, as it was the thick of summer though, in more dour news, Ryoken was more and more frequently suffering because of it. Made worse so since Spectre had become a more recurring bedfellow and, in his enormity, he made a fantastic companion during the cold. Not so much during these warmer months that they were coming into given that it was the middle of July. Not to mention, Ryoken had always had a more wintery temperament, preferring the cool to the hot but nowadays, it was ridiculous. His current condition had exacerbated such a disposition. He felt awkward nowadays forgoing a bed shirt when he tried to sleep but the temptation of some reprieve from excessive heat was alluring.

No matter how he tossed and turned, Ryoken struggled to withstand the heat. It didn’t help that instead of a pillow that he rested against tonight, Spectre had offered his services instead. And Ryoken, being more desperate for affection than he wanted to admit, had leapt at the offer. Besides, it should have been fine. There was a breeze coming in from the outside so long as he kept the window open and so long as he wore a singlet and underwear, he should have been fine.

He wasn’t. It was unbearable and just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, something he dreaded with every toss and turn as the seconds took him beyond midnight, it did.

Ryoken had finally lulled himself to something near sleep. He was drowsing which was better than being insufferable awake and aware of everything going on around him and beyond. He focused on his breathing and tried to enjoy his favourite white noise but then something felt off.

Felt wet. And with just that, Ryoken bolted upright.

Memories of the last time that he had felt awkwardly and inappropriately wet came crashing down over him. But he was feeling wet between the legs. It wasn’t some kind of genital discharge. It was his singlet which felt wet and not with sweat, either.

Ryoken tugged at the fabric and winced. Something was amiss. He felt hot and sticky and there was a little bit of chest pain, too. He had thought it might have been how he had been sleeping at first but that wasn’t sitting with him right as a mundane conclusion. The more he fixated on it, the worse it got. Though, that might have just been his mind playing tricks on him; that’s what he told himself as he got fed up with his own irrationality. He tore his shirt off and discarded it to the end of the bed; it landed on his feet and his toes curled inwards. Despite all his wriggling, Ryoken didn’t disturb Spectre; his nose merely twitched, he sighed, and kept sleeping.

Ryoken took a breath and started to assess himself. He was ginger with himself as he touched his breasts. His brows furrowed as he started underneath them, massaging them gently to see what did and didn’t trigger jolts of pain at any varying level. So far, nothing much. All he was really getting was horny as he inadvertently edged himself by tracing around his nipples. He blushed as he continued to tentatively touch, and even squeeze, himself. All too little avail, it seemed safe for his own, self-stimulated arousal.

But just as he was having doubts, something happened. His apprehension was confirmed. Liquid –  _ milk _ – was elicited from his nipples. It was weak and dribbly but Ryoken felt it on his prickly skin. He disliked the feel of it on his skin immensely but the little jabs of pain from around his nipples were worse. With each jolt, and every press, more fluid came forth.

Ryoken shuddered. Panic began to take him so he shifted as he sat upright. Behind him, Spectre slept, so he roused him urgently. Spectre lifted his head and with bleary eyes, became attentive as he was a good mate like that.

“Is something the matter, Master Ryoken?” he asked, eyes drooping to Ryoken’s breasts.

“I’m – I’m lactating.” Ryoken stuttered out, embarrassed.

Spectre’s pupils dilated. Ryoken noticed and was ready to foretell all sorts of ills from that omen. Spectre licked his jowls.

“M-May I alleviate you of your excess then?” he asked, nearly vibrating, his tail which once languidly laid on the floor, now thumped.

“It won’t taste very nice.” Ryoken attempted to tell Spectre. “It’ll only be foremilk.”

“I don’t mind.” Spectre replied.

Ryoken went to murmur something more but words failed him. So, he let his hands drop to his bedding and Spectre leaned in. He licked Ryoken’s breast, from the bottom to the top, over the nipple: a clean stripe upwards. Ryoken shivered. He thought, by now, that he ought to be used to the roughness of Spectre’s tongue, but the texture always caught him off guard, no matter how much he anticipated it.

Spectre continued to lick over Ryoken’s breast, teasing his nipple. The sweetness was faint and assailed by a waterier taste, but Spectre forced himself to like it anyway. After all, it was Ryoken’s milk; how precious. Still, he was hesitant in how he nursed himself from Ryoken’s breast. He was all too aware of how long his muzzle was and how sharp his teeth were. It was difficult for him to gauge how to press down on Ryoken’s breast and how to latch down over the expanded areola. Still, he tried, and he did his best, closing his eyes to Ryoken and trying to get lost in such scarce milk. It made him feel very good, no matter how dry the ensuing gulp was.

“…Rather than suckling,” Ryoken murmured, “how about you just keep licking it off me, that seems easier… Less…. Scary, I suppose?”

Spectre looked up, and he softened. Appreciative. “Thank you, Master Ryoken…”

The way Spectre’s voice trailed off concerned Ryoken, but he would set aside that observation for now and indulge Spectre firstly. Somehow, Spectre’s presence in what could have been a panic helped console Ryoken of fears that he didn’t know he had. But in the glint of his teeth, hued in moonlight and coloured mostly by the dim of the room, also illuminated him to new fears.

Spectre must have sensed that as Ryoken so gently manipulated his nipples, freeing forth scant milk for him to drink.

“You must be concerned for our young now, yes?” Spectre asked.

“You can tell?” Ryoken sheepishly replied.

Spectre licked another stripe over his nipple. It had become engorged, swollen. Ryoken shivered. His sensitivities were spiking something terrible tonight which grew warmer and warmer. He felt sweat on the back of his neck as Spectre curled in.

“Of course.” Spectre said. “You’re my mate. The love of my life.”

“You’re so sweet.” Ryoken told him and he had to defy the natural impulse to caress Spectre. He grimaced though as Spectre licked droplets of milk off him. “But you’re right. I am a little bit.”

“Will talking help? I can only offer my ears in exchange, however.” Spectre murmured.

“That’s fine, Spectre.” Ryoken replied, stilted. “…I’m just a little bit worried that our, um, kits might struggle like you are. What if they were born with teeth? Were you born with teeth?” A dark thought came over Ryoken and he voiced it immediately, without thinking through to Spectre’s feelings: “What if I can’t produce enough milk for all of them?”

Spectre flinched upon hearing that and Ryoken stiffened. He felt awful. Made to feel more awful as Spectre licked at him harder and tried to suckle from him. Ryoken felt the pin prick pinch of Spectre’s teeth on him.

“Spectre!” he warned.

Spectre flinched again. He whined and was assailed by guilty, remorseful feelings. Ryoken cooed at him which did little to ease those guilty feelings.

“I’m sorry, Master Ryoken. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. I love you.” Ryoken murmured.

Spectre’s ears flicked. He was pleased to hear that.

“I’m sure whatever comes, will be fine. I mean, you used to love boxed kitten milk as a treat.” Ryoken said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Not anymore.” Spectre huffed, indignant and then followed up with another swipe of his tongue over Ryoken’s nipple. “Besides, your milk tastes so much nicer.”

Ryoken blushed and his genitals twitched, got wet. The arousal was unexpected but welcome; he couldn’t help but adore praise from Spectre. It was always so sweet, no matter the content.

They settled again. Ryoken laid down, nestled into Spectre’s fur and against his stomach. Spectre remained curled in, as awkwardly as he could be with part of his body on the bed and another part on the floor and trying his best to reach Ryoken as romantically as he could. Still, it was nice. Ryoken was able to fall asleep, even if Spectre made some wretched noises, still drinking from his breast as he, too, dozed off.

When they woke a few hours later at dawn, Ryoken felt sore. His chest felt tender and sensitive and though he knew Spectre meant it in a loving gesture, Ryoken refused to let him kiss it better. Spectre wasn’t miffed and promised to be back soon once he had caught something to eat as breakfast. When he left, the room grew noticeably cooler yet Ryoken couldn’t revel in it. He was fussy, like that. Worse still, when he tried to go back to sleep, he couldn’t, and he had new worries.

Worries which were proven to be founded come Sunday, when they realised. Kyoko scolded Ryoken severely upon learning that Ryoken had begun premature lactation and had resolved such an issue by letting Spectre suckle from him. She compared it to when chickens get a taste for their own eggs. Ryoken would admit though, she was probably right. But he trusted Spectre enough to behave.

The following weeks were just a game of just how grouchy and big Ryoken could get and every time he thought he peaked in either regard, he was proven wrong. They spent the last of the summer and the beginning of spring thinking, talking, and joking about this. It was awful and terrible and one day, it culminated in realising that he didn’t need any surgery down there. At least not hypothetically. It was possible – highly probable, more like it – that he would require a caesarean following when his water broke but, at least in theory, Ryoken was now capable of giving birth without that sort of intervention. His body was nigh unrecognisable as the one that he had that time last year.

The revelation was startling but it didn’t feel like it meant the beginning of the end. Not to Spectre anyway; certainly not to Ryoken, either. Spectre’s instincts regarding the ins and outs of ferret pregnancy were slightly keener than Kyoko’s. She was somewhat convinced that the kits would be born before October ends.

But until then, it was all up in the air. Uncertain. In the meantime, Ryoken just had to contend the best he could with his condition. And for the most part, he had made peace with it. He was certainly looking forward to having the freeloaders out but there were unexpected benefits too.

At this time, which was weirdly pivotal and almost crux like, Ryoken was certainly interested in having some fun with his heavily pregnant condition. After all, he recalled Spectre’s divulging of his fantasies after their very first tryst. In hindsight, they read back to him like a prophecy. That, in turn, gave Ryoken heart. He had heard that fantasies ought to be kept as just that but somewhere beneath the belly full of kits, Ryoken was a scientist first and such things ought to be empirically tested.

So, with the backdrop of a heady, spring night, Ryoken wanted to test whether or not he could break Spectre’s heart but giving him everything that he thinks that he wants.

The window was open. From outside, floral scents of newly blossomed trees wafted in and contrasted against Spectre’s musk. Ryoken connected his lips to Spectre’s and he inhaled deeply, exhaling a sigh over Spectre’s muzzle. He purred at the contact. Spectre k

issed back as best as he could and that reciprocal earnestness exhilarated Ryoken.

His fingers entangled in the bristled fur along Spectre’s muzzle. Ryoken gave him a scratch and he felt the vibrations of Spectre’s voice, muffled through his closed maw and kiss, on his fingertips. It was nice. Ryoken’s tongue slipped forth and he edged it along Spectre’s lips. They felt rubbery and slobbery, but he adored it. He drank of Spectre’s affections in turn, still ghosting his fingers over his muzzle and his head thudded with his purr.

Soon, Spectre’s tongue trespassed against Ryoken. It was rough against Ryoken’s but he didn’t mind. He opened his mouth slightly and immediately swallowed the fierce rumble of Spectre’s purr. Spectre explored Ryoken’s mouth; the tip of his tongue did not do well to fit inside of Ryoken’s mouth, but he tried his hardest as Ryoken tried his best to accommodate Spectre’s large tongue. The tip of which inched along the crevices of his teeth, swirling through his saliva and otherwise enjoying the deepening make out session. “May I…?” Spectre murmured, words muddled with lust and complete adoration unto Ryoken. “May I eat you out?”

Ryoken all but leapt at Spectre’s question with eagerness. “Please.” he gasped, so thoroughly needy.

Spectre was riveted by the reply but Ryoken’s voice was far inferior to his body. Ryoken too great care to undrape himself from his pyjamas. Spectre keenly watched as Ryoken’s body became known and naked to him. But it was not Ryoken’s finery which Spectre took the grandest interest in. Though, it was very good to watch Ryoken unpin and unbutton his sleeping down. It merely paled in comparison to the care that Ryoken took with taking off his underwear; an act by which Spectre was mesmerised by.

Ryoken wasn’t even wearing  _ good _ underwear. It was cheap and cottony, nude coloured. A wet patch was saddled in the middle of it; it could have been anything really, Ryoken’s arousal if they were romantic, his discharge if they were practical, or potentially even his urine.

Spectre didn’t care. He was fascinated by the garment. Ryoken attempted to discard it elsewhere but Spectre made a nuisance of himself first. He leaned into Ryoken’s personal space, their necks criss-crossing, and Spectre’s nose positively twitched with how avidly he was sniffing the air. His whiskers bounced so cutely in contrary.

Ryoken laughed. He scrunched up his face in delighted disgust as Spectre had a go at his underwear. He liked how Spectre’s fur ghosted against his body as he tried to snap at the garment so Ryoken slowly, playfully, brought it in front of him and let Spectre have it there, just above the bulge of his engorged belly. Ryoken laughed harder as Spectre licked at the wetness on it. He wrestled with it with glee, whiskers quivering and his voice making fantastic chittering noises.

Soon satisfied that Spectre had gotten a taste for Ryoken, Ryoken succumbed. He awkwardly laid himself to rest on his own bed. His whole body ached. He could barely see over his belly but fortunately, Spectre was even bigger so Ryoken supposed that was okay. He was looking forward to one day being able to sleep or rest on his sides or on his belly but until then, he would just have to put up with the weight and pressure that he was currently under due to his pregnancy.

Ryoken sheepishly opened his legs wider to Spectre. His paws settled just under his thighs; Ryoken could feel the outline of his claws so close to his legs but he didn’t even care. What was more important was his tongue and his tongue was swift to close the distance between Spectre’s maw and Ryoken’s genitals.

Spectre’s tongue swiped upwards from the base of Ryoken’s genitals before inserting forth. He was rough and eager, it made Ryoken croon and writhe beneath him. It was raucously good as Ryoken bucked his hips back and he felt Spectre touch up against his G-spot. His tongue flickered around it. hot and wet and coarse. It hurt. But it hurt so good, Ryoken was defenceless against the pleasure and he came almost immediately thereafter.

It was embarrassing but he did. He felt like a virgin again, in a way. Though, given the changes which his body had gone through, perhaps that was apt. Regardless, the rush of pleasure was too much for Ryoken to handle. He moaned as he thrust against spectre’s mouth, coming against him.

Spectre didn’t mind. If anything, he adored it. His ears pricked up over the way Ryoken made such melodious sounds. It enticed him further. Licking deeper and harder. It only made Ryoken louder and Spectre revelled in such illicit noises. He lapped hard and noisily at Ryoken’s genitals. Each swipe at him all but electrified him. He panted and panted over it, eyes rolling back into his head with his legs kicking. Spectre was enthralled by the challenge, but he didn’t dare attempt to hold Ryoken down. His claws were sharp and Ryoken’s flesh was far too easily punctured.

So, instead, Spectre just shoved his mouth closer to Ryoken, taking care not to prick him with his teeth or similar. In his ecstasy, Ryoken couldn’t care less but he appreciated the courtesy anyway. Spectre continued to ardently pleasure Ryoken, returning him once more to his highest arc, his climax.

Ryoken came against Spectre’s muzzle and he eagerly licked at Ryoken’s ejaculate. He savoured the taste as Ryoken pulled himself away from Spectre’s maw. He was dizzy but it felt good to let the world spin so noticeably as it did. He took his time to get up from how he had been lying down on his bed.

Spectre inched closer, not enjoying the subtle rejection. He nuzzled Ryoken’s belly and made whimpering noises. Ryoken rolled his eyes.

“Not done, are we?” Ryoken asked.

“Preferably not, I have to make up for lost time but if you wish against it, so be it.” Spectre replied.

Ryoken licked his lips. “I’d rather feel you up, eat you up… That sort of thing.”

“If that’s what you want, who am I to spurn you?” Spectre sounded all too pleased by that turnabout.

It was a shame that it was such a hassle. Though, most of their daily life was thanks to the intricacies of size difference. But they made it work through patience, as long suffering as it was for them both to get comfortable again. The lull of Spectre’s nattering and repositioning cooled them down but once Spectre was good to go again, the warmth which emanated off his fluffy fur was more than enough to get them hot again.

Spectre had his hindquarters on the bed and his torso on the floor. He didn’t look comfortable, one leg in the air and the other outstretched. His prick lolled about, extended forth from his sheathe. The flesh of which was a lot duller than it had been when he had been on heat. Hell, it looked a lot paler, even smaller, than when they had last fooled around like this. 

Ryoken, who knelt beside it, couldn’t decide whether or not that change in colour made it, and consequently the task of pleasuring it, more or less nauseating. He did, however, think that he would do well not to bring it up. He recalled having these thoughts last time; perhaps, eventually, he ought to bring it up with Spectre in a different situation but that was for another time.

As for the rest of Spectre, he had his chin on a pillow that Ryoken had been so kind to throw his way. He seemed petulant that he wasn’t going to get very many good looks at his mate sucking him off but turning the entirety of his body into a nested coil around Ryoken was going to overheat him in this sensitive state. 

Ryoken kissed the tip of Spectre’s prick. He swirled his tongue over the unusually shaped corona and deepened his kiss as far as he could go. A dull ache twinged in Ryoken’s jowls as he did try his best. Spectre moaned in his facetiously genuine way and the corners of Ryoken’s mouth pricked up over it. He lifted his head up over it and moaned again. Ryoken knew that Spectre meant it in earnest, yet it still had that overtone of insincerity over it. His brows twinged.

Ryoken drew back and smacked his lips. Saliva was disturbed in his mouth and he nattered over the aftertaste. He glanced towards Spectre. His paws hid his face but not in the unusual way.

“Are you okay?” Ryoken asked.

“I am yes,” Spectre hastily replied, lifting up his head only to lower it shamefully again, “I just… want to see you drenched in my seed but as I’ve explained before, out of season, I simply can’t.”

“Or, perhaps,” Ryoken began pointedly and he swirled his tongue around Spectre’s corona, “you simply couldn’t stimulate yourself to your off-season threshold. But now, you have me, your dutiful mate.”

Spectre made an excited noise. It was something of a rumble and Ryoken felt its vibrations in his body; doubly so when Spectre swung his upper half around so that he could thankfully nuzzle Ryoken’s face. Ryoken smiled into it and he scratched along Spectre’s jawline before patting him back, hinting to him that, as a human, Ryoken had reasonable doubt that bending in such ways could be good for Spectre’s spine. Though Spectre would adamantly digress, he appreciated this sentiment of how Ryoken showed his care; it made his heart flutter, so he returned his head to the pillow – and Ryoken did more than just return his mouth to Spectre’s prick.

Ryoken took a breath and somewhere in his head, he was aware that his promise would take forever to realise but he was certain that it would be worth it. He felt highly aroused between the legs and it bolstered him beyond just sucking Spectre off. He slotted in closer against Spectre’s erection, he drew himself into a cobralike position, only nudging himself slightly so that his breast rubbed up against Spectre’s prick.

Spectre’s hindlegs kicked. Ryoken chuckled to himself and he continued what he was doing. His fingers raked through Spectre’s thick fur as he kept himself propped up. He mouthed Spectre’s prick, gently gyrating against him. Spectre cooed, rough and tumble, and it filled Ryoken with a thick satisfaction from the bottom of his heart. He revelled in how it felt to be vibrated by Spectre’s movements and ferret-impulse driven mumblings.

Regardless, it was exactly that sort of reaction which quelled any reservation that Ryoken had. Even as his upper body ached and as his mouth numbed, he was more than determined to get Spectre to his climax. He was eager to be so primally owned. And he more than knew that Spectre wanted to see him in such a debauched state as well; knowing that also maddened Ryoken with desire as he worked Spectre’s prick over and over.

It took forever but it was worth it in the end. Even if he had truly exhausted every inch of himself for Spectre’s satisfaction, it was absolutely worth it in the end when Ryoken had drawn Spectre beyond his self imposed limit of being “off season”. Ryoken panted as he came, once more, in his endeavour and Spectre’s hindquarters vibrated. He moaned, head rolling back, as he came not only against Ryoken, but on him.

Spectre’s prick erupted with a curt gush of semen that lasted seconds. Yet, those mere seconds were more than enough to douse Ryoken all but head to toe with his seed. Ryoken was utterly awash with the splash of it; white dotted all his body, pooling in his deeper nooks and crannies as Spectre writhed away from him, giving them both the needed space to appreciate the moment in their different ways.

Ryoken wanted to get his breath back and to bask in the echoes of his orgasms. After all, he had, somewhat inadvertently, brought himself to climax a few times trying to elicit just one from Spectre. Spectre, meanwhile, just wanted to be able to see what had happened. He had adored every second of Ryoken rubbing him, sucking him, and so on and so forth, all with those lewd breaths and other touches from him and being stuck on the floor as he had had only inflamed all those feelings but now, he could start moving around again. Spectre rolled over and reared up and Ryoken giggled as he watched Spectre try to get onto his feet again. It was rather adorable.

Spectre tongued over his teeth and lips as his eyes lit up with eagerness once he had gotten all his paws right. His lower quarters hit the ground with a thud and Ryoken only half flinched. He was, honestly, more lost in the way Spectre’s eyes were looking him over as he only felt more unclean by the second.

“You look beautiful.” Spectre told him, his voice low and quiet. He leaned in and licked at Ryoken’s cheeks.

“Thanks.” Ryoken coughed up an amused but insincere reply. His skin crawled.

“No, thank you, for everything.” Spectre replied.

Ryoken further allowed Spectre to lick him clean as his heart fluttered. Spectre’s technique was gentle, caring, even when it raked over Ryoken as harshly as it did. There was something almost worshipful about Spectre as he licked his mate clean.It was almost a shame too but that was part of the fantasised ritual as much as claiming Ryoken carnally. He looked so pretty all splashed over, streaked with white and some pink too as Spectre ran his tongue over him.

Ryoken murmured, content, as he let Spectre lick him. He was half surprised that Spectre had been so swift to clean him down. He would have thought that Spectre would have wanted to drink in how Ryoken looked all covered in his semen. His quickness, his near rejection of doing so, disconcerted Ryoken but he tried to think nothing of it. He was merely tinged with the anxiety that he, himself, didn’t live up to the expectation inside of Spectre’s head.

The truth, of course, far from in that Spectre could barely behold Ryoken on the grounds that he far exceeded any daydream that he could concoct.Thus, of course, Spectre couldn’t help but look away because Ryoken was truly above what Spectre felt capable of beholding. At least in this off season, anyway. If he was rutting, it would be an entirely different matter altogether and his thoughts, and fantasies, had yet to stray that far into the future.

But, perhaps, if Spectre could get lucky, if things could happen earlier than expected, then maybe, he could get everything that he wanted at once but that was getting far too ahead of himself. For now, he would be more than content with what he had, licking stripes up and down Ryoken’s gorgeous body, as impregnated with his kits.

The air cooled around them and Ryoken still felt sticky with cum, even when Spectre had just about licked over every inch of him. His skin crawled but he smiled through it. He reached up and stroked Spectre’s jowl, leading him into a chaste kiss.

“Thanks, Spectre.” he said, heart murmuring. 

“You want to have a proper bath now, don’t you?” Spectre asked, his heart breaking in some self-inflicted awkwardness.

“Yep.” Ryoken replied. “Though, you’re more than welcome to join... I mean, if your happy to watch, I guess. Or get splashed.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, if you’ll have me.” Spectre told him.

Ryoken smiled and he rather liked that reply. He got off the bed with instability in his legs. He felt weak, weaker than usual, and wet too, but Spectre helped nudge him along. Ryoken held onto his fur and it felt nice to have that little bit of extra support as he nakedly hobbled along down from his room to the bathroom.

Ryoken plopped himself in the tub as soon as he could arrive. Spectre also plopped himself down, chin on the porcelain rim of the tub and the rest of his body winding out the door. Ryoken turned on the taps with his foot, a display which mutedly impressed Spectre as water gushed. Ryoken then knocked over some soaps and stuff into the bath with him, which perfumed both the water and steam. Spectre’s nose wrinkled. He didn’t like it for himself but things like this still immensely intrigued him, even over a decade later.

It was rather innocent to watch Ryoken bathe. The water swirled with foam and bubbles. Ryoken relaxed into the water, languid and serene. Spectre cautiously dipped his front paws in, claws skirting the surface, making ripples which tickled Ryoken, causing him to send playful waves in Spectre’s direction.

Ryoken felt rather hesitant to get out of the water as it was just a nice and pleasant moment, but he was pruning. He felt clean enough, properly so, after languishing in soap and warm water, so he got out. He wrapped himself up with a towel and Spectre awkwardly moved around him, amusing Ryoken to the point that he bopped Spectre’s nose, irritating him mildly as he didn’t like having his nose touched without warning, so his face crinkled but he wasn’t mad. His whiskers bounced about slightly because of it, though.

But such languid and serene moments can’t last forever, is what Ryoken discovered as he, once more, felt increasingly uncomfortable in his own body. Again. It was almost like he was on heat once more. He was red and itchy and hot under the collar, but not lewdly so. Though, it ought to be noted that all those months ago, he hadn’t felt in a stagnated rut wherein he felt as though he ought to be doing something but didn’t know what therefore frustrating him beyond all compare. It was a peculiar stress which had him picking at his skin and even plucking hair from his head; behaviours very alien to Ryoken who groomed himself rather meticulously due to the stench which lingered on him thanks to his beloved bedfellow.

Though, it wasn’t until he had sat down for lunch that it got to the point of extra concerning. Even with a rather nice lunch prepared for him, made by Aso, Ryoken didn’t feel a single thing towards it. Given that he had been vehemently hungry these past few months, desiring all sorts of food and in overabundant quantities, to see him not even stir at the sight of gourmet sandwiches and the like was rather concerning.

Deciding that it would be a waste on him, and the assistants had already eaten their fill from other sandwiches that Aso had made, Ryoken called Spectre downstairs. Sure, he had likely eaten his fill for the morning through to the afternoon thanks to his usual hunt earlier, he deserved to be spoiled anyway, Ryoken decided. But it was not the prospect of roast beef and sweet chili sauce on rye which delighted Spectre when he arrived at Ryoken’s beck and call, it was the prospect of his hard work in seeding Ryoken coming to fruition.

Genome bonked his head with his hand as soon Spectre’s eyes lit up upon hearing about Ryoken’s latest dysfunction.

“Of course,” he said to himself, cursing, “typical dam behaviour. He’s whelping.” 

Spectre nudged Ryoken’s face. Ryoken fidgeted, trying to stop himself from scratching his raw wrists but if anything, the revelation had sharpened what had otherwise been a mundane urge. Kyoko, thankfully, reached across and gently took Ryoken’s hand to prevent him from doing so. Aso gave him the evil eye; negging him to eat more.

“Tomorrow our lives are going to change.” Spectre told him, far too proudly and with sparkling eyes.

“Wonderful.” Ryoken dryly replied.

“Do you remember those exercises we’ve been doing here and there?” Kyoko asked, running her fingers tenderly along Ryoken’s hands in the hopes of quelling the itch in them.

“Yeah.” Ryoken grunted.

“We’re going to do more of them but worse.” Kyoko told him.

“Oh fuck.” Ryoken went white; whiter still when he thought about actual childbirth, something which had been a very nebulous concept from the very start of this transformation to accommodate Spectre’s young inside of him.

“You could get lucky. Could be another few days before you actually, well, you know...” Genome rambled.

“No, it’ll happen tomorrow.” Spectre interjected, uppity.

Ryoken shuddered. If he had learned just one thing from this whole experience, it was what Spectre said, went. Happened. If Spectre was convinced that tomorrow was the day then by all means, it was absolutely the day. Even if it did terrify Ryoken as an increasingly tangible concept.

“Regardless, you will need to eat, if you want to have the strength to go through any of these ordeals.” Aso said.

“I know.” Ryoken murmured.

He picked up half of his sandwich on his plate. It had begun to sag in the middle, soggy with the chilli sauce. He really wasn’t hungry, but he forced himself to eat. Spectre, murmured, next to him, disappointed that he wasn’t getting a treat after all. He liked to be spoiled by Ryoken, though it would embarrass him to admit that as he considered it his most reverent duty to be as servile as possible to him, as best as he could muster as mustelid.

After lunch, somewhat against his will, Ryoken was subject to being slathered with ointments and creams to soothe his itch as well as an ungodly amount of yoga and other birthing exercises. These little measures didn’t rouse Ryoken’s approval very much and he was very much vindicated the following day when his water broke.

He had gone to bed that night, dreading the morning and when he woke, he spent the morning dreading the afternoon, and when the afternoon came, he then dreaded the evening, but he had a growing suspicion. Perhaps Spectre was wrong. Then he felt it. It had honestly been the coldest day all winter, easy given it was only December, but it was still frigid to the point of freezing indoors whilst something like snow, more like slurry, had begun to accumulate outside. So, stripping down wasn’t exactly something Ryoken was thrilled to do, even with a blanket handy and in the comfort of his own room.

It was about five o’clock and he felt it. And when he felt it, he somehow became the calmest person in the room. Spectre, unsurprisingly, became the least calm person – creature? – in the room. Thus, creating a confirmation bias against Ryoken, all but striking him down as hysterical until he got out of his pants and Kyoko could medically prove that no, Ryoken was right.

He was giving birth.

There were plans in place. Supposedly. After all, pregnancy wasn’t an eternal state of being, no matter how it felt like when the worst of it dragged on through. However, putting those plans in place was completely different to laying them out in hypotheticals and plotting them out in theory.

Still, Ryoken remained calm as he tried to put them in place by himself. He was supposed to give birth in the basement, under more sanitary and controlled conditions but his kitty brain demanded comfort over functionality, so he decided to obey that more base feeling inside him. And so, Ryoken returned to his bedroom, awkwardly waddling up the stairs as his body was strained in ways it had never been strained before. Spectre waited at the top of the stairs, nervous and excited and wanting to help but far too clumsy to do so with his paws whilst at the bottom of the stairs, the assistants were similar. Again, nervous and excited and wanting to help but far too clumsy to do so with the added air of arrogance in thinking that Ryoken was getting ahead of himself.

He most certainly was not as the stages of whelping progressed. He laid down in his bed, a towel was put down underneath him and he kept his legs apart. Spectre, unfortunately, was not permitted in the room with Ryoken and the assistants. He was most perturbed by that; relegated to sitting, heaped in a pile, outside of the door and effectively locking the humans into what seemed to be a torture chamber based on all the screams and grunts and miscellaneous cuss words emanating from inside. He felt terrible, being able to do little whilst his mate underwent the process of birthing his kits.

The two hours which followed were probably the queasiest hours that Spectre had ever experienced. The pain of crying out, not even being able to hear his own voice as he felt his vocal cords stretch, for his birth mother who would never return, paled in comparison to what Spectre had to endure as he was not allowed inside Ryoken’s sanctum.

Though, in the assistants’ opinions, outside was the best place to be as Ryoken made for a highly distressed individual. It was an amazing turn of character after how calmly he had arrived, but immense pain would do that to a person. All of which was made worse as his firstborn was uncomfortably hairy, he and the assistants discovered as time progressed. But, all in all and as per the way of ferrets, it was a relatively short birth.

“Spectre.” Aso said, knocking at the back of the door. “You may come in.”

Spectre scrambled to his paws. His rear knocked against the door many times as he got all of himself in order. Aso shuffled away from the door, bringing it with him and opening it as Spectre bounded inside and directly to Ryoken’s bed.

Ryoken looked wrecked to say the least. But he was alive. That was the main thing though the better thing was that he was smiling somewhere beneath all that exhaustion; beneath his askew and snowy fringe and red cheeks. He was sweaty and teary, but he was smiling. 

As Spectre drew in closer, getting himself already to lay beside Ryoken, Ryoken stared across the room. He didn’t know what to say and he was holding onto the most precious thing he ever thought he could hold; his own child. Well, kit. It didn’t look like any human baby that he had ever seen. It was all swaddled and cleaned ahead of Spectre’s arrival as Ryoken didn’t want his progeny licked clean for its first bath.

“Congratulations to you both. A healthy new addition to the world has been born.” Kyoko said.

“Yes, but now that it is here, is it a miracle or a mistake? Is this any more incurring of disaster than your father’s endeavour in the godlike field of creating new species?” Genome asked.

Aso nodded along thoughtfully in muted agreement.

“Do not talk about mine and Master Ryoken’s kits like that.” Spectre growled, voice dropping dangerously low.

“That’s just how uncles show affection.” Ryoken attempted to placate Spectre, hand flopping towards his forehead but the distance between Spectre and Ryoken was exacerbated by how exhausted Ryoken was. “Humans are mean like that. We think mean jokes are funny.”

Spectre tentatively accepted that as an answer. His lips stopped drawing back and returned to neutral.

“But also...” Ryoken murmured. “We only have one kit.”

“What?” Spectre said, head raising with concern.

“Seems your keen, animal intuition isn’t wholly reliable.” Ryoken said.

“Check.” Spectre said. “There might be another one or two kits still inside of Ryoken.”

“We checked.” Genome assured him.

“You likely got your wires crossed when listening to heartbeats. Foetuses are confounding like that, not to mention, you would have been listening to Ryoken’s as well. Or at least that’s my theory but hey, isn’t one, safe kit better than four which are hanging on by a thread?” Kyoko politely continued on behalf of her colleagues.

“Yeah, come and meet your progeny for real, see its face.” Ryoken said.

Spectre lifted his head and shuffled forward, tail twitching and paws flexing in some great suppression of a weasel war dance. Something very hard to do as his kit cried, mewling and random more so than anything else, thankfully. Then, when Spectre got comfortable, yet again and rested it on Ryoken’s shoulder. Both parents looked utterly starstruck with what Ryoken had in his arms. A quiet seeming kit who mewled and whimpered at odd intervals but mostly kept to itself.

“We can’t sex our kit yet, by the way but what do you want more? A son or a daughter?” Ryoken asked. 

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I was expecting a multitude of kits, after all. Didn’t really care for the configurations... What do you want, Kitty?”

“A daughter.” Ryoken said, voice wobbling. “No real reason, I just think it would be nice to have a girl kit to dote on.”

“A girl, a Jill, would be more high maintenance though.” Genome piped up. “You should know that better than anyone, Ryoken.”

“I know, but I have a name in mind for a girl.” Ryoken said.

“Oh? What’s that? I hadn’t really noticed either of you talking about potential names for your offspring.” Kyoko said. “Never really came to mind during our weekly chats, either. More pressing topics to discuss, like urine samples and clitoral stimulation satisfaction.”

“Taki.” Ryoken embarrassedly scolded her.

“Sorry.” She most certainly did not sound it despite saying it.

“But, what’s the name?” Spectre asked. “I would prefer entrusting such an important thing to you. I’m not good at names.”

Ryoken smiled softly. He caught the allusion to Spectre’s Tree Mother in the way he had spoken. He found it sublimely sweet that Spectre would prefer if someone whom he really loved and cherished were the one to name his kit. Ryoken swallowed as the fear that he would say something which would not measure up to the absolute trust that Spectre had of him.

“When we spoke about having kits for the first time, properly, I mentioned my motivation for having your kits was to fulfil the expectation of my Father. He wanted to make a new species, so I decided to loan my body to such a brutal thing which had wrongly slaughtered animals for. In doing so, I was willing to open Pandora’s Box. So, whilst you may find it cruel for the likes of Genome, and even me, to say these things about our kit, asking if it was a miracle or mistake, I do think it’s important to acknowledge that.” Ryoken rambled.

And, just as he feared, that light in Spectre’s eyes simpered. It was not going to be a simple and pretty name, like Spectre had first suspected. He swallowed. He listened.

“That’s why I want to name our kit Pandor. In reference to Pandora’s Box. But, if you disagree, I won’t be hurt. I want you to like our kit’s name as well.”

Spectre nuzzled Ryoken’s face. “No, Ryoken, that is a very good name.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Ryoken sighed, relieved to hear that, and nuzzled back; he lifted his hand slightly to scratch at Spectre’s chin as well.

Genome coughed obnoxiously. “This is sickeningly sweet. I’m out. Just don’t bleed to death when we’re not looking.”

“I’m going to grab the bassinet from the nursery that we set up. That way you don’t have to go too far or further strain yourself.” Aso said.

“I’ll go find you some extra blankets and things.” Kyoko said.

“Thank you to you both.” Ryoken said.

“Also, don’t forget: like chickens getting a taste for their eggs. Don’t.” Kyoko said.

“And what does that mean?” Spectre asked.

“An inside joke.” Kyoko said.

“Let’s just leave the new parents alone.” Aso sighed.

“Thanks.” Ryoken said.

“Still, good night to you both, and kitty – baby? – Pandor.” Aso said. 

“You still need to bring the bassinet around but thank you.” Ryoken said.

“And don’t.” Kyoko said.

“I won’t!” Ryoken exclaimed.

Spectre still seemed perturbed over the inside joke, but he settled. He settled further once the three assistants left. It smelt very nice in here now. Smelt of Ryoken and kit and him; even if them and their ugly human smells lingered, it did smell a little nicer. It was comfortably warm as well. The perfect place to turn into a den until the humans could arrange their affairs again like they had tried to convince Spectre earlier over various mealtimes. 

With Spectre by his side, Ryoken felt comforted in what needed to be done next. The skin between his shoulders felt itchy and the kit cried, hungry, in his arms. Spectre’s ears pricked up and Ryoken mumbled something to assure him. Nervously let his kit suckle him. It was almost domestic; two parents and Pandor.


	6. Chapter 6

Even if Pandor hadn’t been later sexed as female, it was unlikely that her name would have changed. Everyone in the household became fond of the name Pandor for her soon enough.

To be expected of a newborn kit from Spectre’s species, Pandor spent the first few weeks of her life both deaf and blind. Not to mention, pure white in coat as well but as she got older, her eyes opened, and what a momentous moment that had been for the young parents, and they were rather surprising in colour. They were a garish pink; almost fuchsia. It was difficult to determine if she had inherited such a trait from somewhere in Spectre’s other family tree.

Ryoken and Spectre would both remember the first time that Pandor had heard them speak with her. When her hearing had adjusted to the world outside the womb and whatnot. She just seemed to be utterly delighted in the cadences of her parents who cooed after not only her, but each other as well. She squealed and squeaked, surprised by the sound of her own voice.

Additionally, as she got older, with each passing and arduous week, her coat came in through as well. Unlike Spectre who was mostly white, if a little speckled a barely identifiable silver here and there, Pandor’s fur was darker on top, almost a bluish grey, over her back and such, and lighter underneath, with curious mismatches of what became affectionately referred to as her booties and socks. Though, speaking of her paws, traits which seemed to inherit from Ryoken could be noticed. Her fingers were eerily long for a ferret kit, becoming not unlike human hands rather than simply paws.

Still, Pandor grew at an exceptional rate; one which neither of her parents were quite ready for. But then again, parents in general were hardly ready for all the minute details of rearing young. But, blessedly, Pandor was a good baby. She was mild and quiet, took well to learning new rules and also quite good at remembering old ones. Not to mention, she was completely easy to spoil. She loved to be praised and coddled; her parents - even her aunt and uncles - loved to do it to her. She was truly the apple of their collective eye. 

Spectre was looking forward to one day taking her hunting but she seemed ways off from that; even when she had grown up to his own equivalent of when he had begun hunting for himself in his original den underneath the trunk of his Tree Mother. But he was certain that she would take well to it. She was quick and clever. Ryoken, meanwhile, did worry and fret for his precious kit in relation to these future hunting trips. He had never realised how much danger could manifest on such trips. Spectre was affably offended by this, never realising how much attention from Ryoken he had never gotten by playing up his brave efforts to go poach meals for himself in the woods. Still, Spectre got his playful dues whenever Ryoken brought up the idea of Pandor meeting what remained of her grandfather. After all, things of grief, particularly human ones, were not things which Spectre necessarily understood or had empathy for. 

But regardless, the compromise parenting Pandor was built upon was delicate but in-tact. It was likely due to what Pandor inherited from Ryoken which altered how she aged. Between both her parents, they often saw more of their own species’ young in her than they did in their partner’s. As such, her ageing sometimes behaved like a human toddler’s and other times, like a ferret kit. All of which was steeped in the mystery of what it meant for a creature, a monster, to be both yet neither so that brought all sorts of anxieties as well.

It could be downright dreadful in ways, not knowing if Pandor was developing at the rate she ought to be or should be. Of course, Spectre and Ryoken trusted in themselves that she was despite depressing comments from Pandor’s honorary uncles and aunt. For example, deciding when the right time to wean her had been horrendous, as was moving her from milk to solid food, and other things such as that.

But, in some ways, more often than not, Pandor’s uniqueness as a being was exciting. Not even as a subject to be studied, though she was frequently. For example, she learned to speak the human language quicker than Spectre. He was exuberantly proud of that. Though, she was very late by Ryoken’s metric as she was well beyond six months when she even began babbling vague words, calling out for her ‘Kitty’ and ‘Papa’.

Additionally, she was exceptionally mobile and Ryoken found that exciting given that Pandor was just as capable quadruped as she was bipedal. Not only were her fingers oddly long for paws, she had bizarre legs supported stronger than they seemed hips. Fortunately, the end result of such anatomy was more adorable than creepy, at least for now when she was still very much a kit.

And in the eyes of her parents, she would probably remain a kit for all her life because that’s just what parents did but such a change seemed so far off in the aftermath of the havoc which was caused by both her conception and her birth. Havoc which renewed as her birthday approached; the date of which was cloaked with some apprehension due to the possibility of Spectre’s rut occurring.

After all, Pandor was born on the cusp of the winter solstice, perhaps a day or two before, it was all a muddled haze in hindsight, and Spectre’s rut was poised to begin when the days began to shorten with the arrival of winter. And yet no such rut happened to much confusion which was thoroughly discussed well after Pandor was sent to bed each night. Discussions which steadily inched towards the same conclusion, for Ryoken anyway. In his opinion, it had been far too long since he and his dear mate had bonded carnally.

Being as amorous and doting as he was, Spectre couldn’t help but agree. So, with just a look and a glance, it was decided and when the last light in the house was turned off, Ryoken slipped into the next room over. There, Spectre most warmly welcomed him into his den and another light was turned on.

Hopefully, discreetly. Tonight, discretion was more than key given Ryoken’s rather special ensemble, worn for himself and his mate. Something which would go woefully unappreciated if it was just a romp in the dark.

Spectre’s turn on for lights being on never ceased to amuse Ryoken. Even when he was out of season, when the mood was right, there was still a peculiar way in which his eyes sparkled with perverse delight beneath the sheen of a fluorescent light. Doubly so because he immediately noticed the negligee that Ryoken was bequeathed with tonight. The fabric was especially chosen so that light would bounce off him, elevating him in beauty and lust.

Ryoken licked his lips upon noticing it and settled in the midst of Spectre’s den. Part of him felt as though he ought to be perturbed by the smell around him, but he had long grown used to it and, in fact, by sinking into those pillows so wed with Spectre’s scent, Ryoken found himself aroused.

He split his legs apart and Spectre coiled around him, curious with a prodding snout.

“I’m not sure if I ought to be offended or not? I’m certainly intrigued.” Spectre murmured in Ryoken’s ear. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m not sure. Some misidentified rodent, possibly.” Ryoken replied, snarky.

Spectre laughed a barky laugh brimming with bemusement.

“I wanted to be a ferret. Like you. But I had to improvise hence why I’m more rodent than mustelid in ear shape, though, I hope that my ensemble suffices, nonetheless.” Ryoken explained.

“It very much does.” Spectre replied, husky.

The ensemble in question took more inspiration from costume and aesthetics rather than lingerie or functionality. As such, Ryoken was draped in silk; practically drowning it as it shimmered over his body in hues of the palest green as he thought that colour would appeal to Spectre. It was all solid coloured but hemmed with a little bit of lace for attention with floral detailing which wonderfully clashed against the other themes which Ryoken had going for him such as the mouse eared headband that he donned. It was white furred, and it had a few other white accessories to match, such as a limp tail hidden under the dress of his negligee which he sat on and a pair of socks. The socks were quite curious; normal seeming at first save for their length as they were to the thigh, thereby having the negligee hang well over it but also because of what they had the soles: pink paw print patterns printed on.

But, of course, it was his smile which Ryoken wore best.

A smile which Spectre couldn’t help but to kiss. Ryoken let him lap at his mouth, almost giggling, as Spectre’s rough tongue continued to flick over his lips and even his chin. Spectre appeared to adore the joy which emanated off Ryoken as he was kissed. A kiss which was swift to deepen as those plush ears on a discrete headband on top of Ryoken’s crown, no matter what misidentified rodent it was inspired by as it was truly doing wonders for Spectre.

They were very adorable. Ryoken was, actually, very adorable, too. He couldn’t really feel his arousal in his loins, but he could feel an uncharacteristic push within his penile bone, as though it wanted to attempt some protrusion outside of its guard, but Spectre merely could not find the energy. Something he found quite wrong because he was very much in the mood and he could smell such things on Ryoken which only served to strengthen his own feelings which his body stupidly refused to recognise out of season.

The kiss ensued for a bit while longer until Ryoken pawed at Spectre’s chest, his hands getting lost in the very deep fluff of his fur, and he playfully pulled away from Spectre’s kiss. Though Spectre was hesitant to reject such an action and remained amorous. Ryoken didn’t mind, he liked the tickle of Spectre’s whiskers as he bobbed down so that he may kiss Ryoken’s throat, wanting to feel his voice on his tongue.

“I feel like, we are very comfortable with each other,” Ryoken drawled as Spectre lapped at his neck, not yet threatening to prick his skin but he could feel the drool and the gleam of Spectre’s teeth against him, “which is why I’d like to suggest we try something new.”

Spectre huffed. His ears flicked. “What do you have in mind?”

“Two things; nothing too wild, just things we’ve done before, done slightly differently.” Ryoken said whilst absentmindedly scratching Spectre’s throat.“I was thinking we mutual oral sex, but I was thinking it would come second.”

“What would come first?” Spectre asked.

His question pleasantly rumbled on Ryoken’s fingertips. “I want you to stuff me.”

“I’m not familiar with that... humanism, dearest.” Spectre sighed.

“I want you to put your prick inside me to the best of your ability. No matter how soft or flaccid, I want inside me.” Ryoken said.

“That’s not really all that different to having sex with you already.” Spectre snorted.

“There’s a slight need for clarification though, you have to admit.” Ryoken cheekily replied.

“We’ll see.”

They didn’t transition immediately from these preamble like kisses to Ryoken’s ideas, so softly spoken to Spectre’s harrumphing voice. Though their kisses did drop from each other’s mouths, avoiding entangling tongues and teeth but not drool. It pooled along Spectre’s maw, dripping, as he thoroughly claimed Ryoken for the first time in months. Ryoken held onto Spectre, half kneading his fur as he near buried his face in the curve of Spectre’s neck as he craned around. Ryoken could almost blissfully suffocate in the soft volume of it; wishing that Spectre’s fur was this nice when he was rutting.

Eventually satisfied with how marked up that Ryoken’s neck would be when the bruising settled, Spectre uncoiled from around Ryoken so that Ryoken may mount him. Ryoken, meanwhile, took a gulping breath as that happened as he felt light headed from his own kissing of Spectre’s neck. He then got out of the way so that Spectre could get comfortable amid his den’s bedding. He rolled over onto his back and Ryoken rode out the strong urge that he had to trace his fingers down all of Spectre’s sternum before taking his place on his mate’s pelvis.

Unlike precious times in which he took such a position, Ryoken felt none of the heat or pressure which emanated off Spectre’s prick. For that, Spectre was embarrassed but Ryoken didn’t mind but he didn’t console him either from all the way down. Instead, he smiled a lascivious smile and picked himself up slightly and began his little strip tease for Spectre. 

Ryoken picked up his negligee from its floral hem and smiled a smile dripping with drool and lust. He unveiled his underwear, and the tips of his thigh highs, too. Spectre cooed, licking his maw, as he watched Ryoken undress. His negligee then went up, over his head, and turned his headband skew whiff. Something Spectre petulantly huffed at over, leaning it and fixing it for him. Using his snout, he pushed it back in place.

“Thank you.” Ryoken said.

“This is cute on you. Don’t know what it is but I like it.” Spectre added as his face hovered over Ryoken’s shoulder.

There, he poked at Ryoken’s chest which was presently covered up by a white lace bralette. Ryoken snickered, amused by hearing such a thing, because he couldn’t help but liken it to the enrichment the domestic of Spectre’s kin would likely feel if their food treats were hidden in scrunched up paper and stuffed in a toilet paper roll.

Still, as he felt Spectre’s hot breath seep through the fabric, he was turned on by it. He felt his nipples harden due to it. Further down his body, arousal ignited, he felt himself grow weak and wet. Thus, Ryoken slid his hand down into his underwear – his panties, really, yet more glimmering green silk, with his bikini line trimmed – and tentatively began to masturbate himself whilst Spectre watched with brilliantly keen eyes.

Ryoken fingered himself, making pleasurable grimaces, so as to loosen himself up before trying to guide Spectre’s flaccid prick inside him. Spectre watched and was soon to decide for himself that he wanted to help Ryoken get off. His prick twitched and he leaned in, tongue lolling. Ryokan Laughed as he fended off such intervention. He pressed down on Spectre’s nose.

“No, dearest.” Ryoken said, saccharine.

Spectre hissed; pouted. He attempted to lick at Ryoken’s fingers which smelt so good with his arousal. It was a little bit ticklish and in vain as Spectre couldn’t get the angle just right - or maybe he was just playing. Flirting.

Regardless Ryoken lifted himself up a little more. He rolled his panties down his legs a bit further so that they stretched out somewhat over his milky thighs. He shimmied back awkwardly but Spectre didn’t mind; Ryoken could do no wrong in his eyes, despite being human. Thus, Spectre’s prick slotted between Ryoken’s legs; almost as though it belonged there. It rested on his underwear, vaguely heavy but Ryoken didn’t mind as he gave a thrust of his hips in a tokenistic effort to ride Spectre’s appendage.

Under the information of his rut, Spectre’s prick was fatter and hotter, a disgusting and garish pink in colour too. It was not like that as it was now. Instead, it was paler and skinnier, though still rather ugly with that misshapen cockhead primed to hook and not just penetrate. 

Ryoken framed that cockhead with his fingers, touching it delicately to arouse Spectre in some lame hope that he could restore it to how he remembered it in the thick of Spectre’s cycle. It was futile, of course, no matter how he humped it. No matter how Ryoken touched. But it still felt good. For both of them. Even if it was a little awkward.

Spectre moaned bestially and Ryoken took that as permission to pinch, to grab, to not just touch. He was worried that he might hurt Spectre if he were too rough but given the grand physiological differences between them, Ryoken perhaps should not have been worried but in the moment, they were equal mates, unbound by such bodily things, so he did hold such concerns instead. Regardless, finally, Ryoken was able to guide - wrench - the tip of Spectre’s prick inside of him. He, himself, receiving where Spectre could do little but thump his hind legs about to show his vigorous excitement.

“H-How does it feel?” Ryoken panted.

“Good.” Spectre was breathless.

Ryoken smiled. He was beyond pleased to hear that. His heart thudded in his chest as he tried to assort his feelings. It was very different to having a hard prick inside of him. He could feel that penile bone somewhat but it was buried within such unaroused flesh but looking down the immense length of Spectre’s body, he was clearly contrary to such a blase reaction in his genitals. Though, his prick could be forgiven because by the stars, Spectre was trying. Giving pushes with every breath to penetrate but it seemed all very laborious as Ryoken bounced on his cockhead in a contrary friction which felt good for them both.

Ryoken soon climaxed atop Spectre. Beneath him, Spectre smiled greedily, tongue lolling and an absolute pride in his eyes. Ryoken’s heart swelled as his heart raced. His chest was so tight, and his body was so wet. Wet with arousal and wet with sweat. He licked at his lips and he tried to ask for more, but his voice was so hoarse. Spectre’s ears twitched. Even thick with exhaustion and lust, he was keen. He knew exactly what Ryoken wanted.

With a buck of his hips, Spectre jostled Ryoken. He half laughed as he thrust back, meeting that energy with conviction. His tail thumped around, not unusual, so Ryoken didn’t mind. He put his hand behind his back, pushing back so that he could stroke Spectre’s prick. Spectre chittered as Ryoken did so, enjoying the faint touch of Ryoken’s fingertips on his flesh as his tail arched up, bending around and engaging with Ryoken’s hands.

“Am I allowed to?” Spectre asked, enjoying how the tip of his tail was entwining and untwining with Ryoken’s fingers.

Ryoken smiled, teeth flashing. “Please.”

He released that playful grasp that he had on Spectre’s tail. He liked how it tickled and flicked through the slats of his fingers, grinding on what little webbing of his fingers. He awkwardly moved his arm back to his front, but Spectre’s tail still found something to drill into and grind against.

Ryoken swallowed and made an odd noise. It was barky and clinked on his teeth, thereby intriguing Spectre who continued to tentatively explore more between Ryoken’s legs, both with his prick and the tip of his tail, as well as his other crevices. Ryoken sucked in a hasty breath, his eyes fluttered closed and his chest rose. These seemingly tiny reactions in Ryoken’s body concerned Spectre, yet it was released as a breathy, pleasured sigh.

He sounded high on bliss. He sighed, shoulders drooping, only for him to draw them in staunchly as Spectre penetrated him twofold. His prick moved only slightly between Ryoken’s legs and the tip of his tail was clumsy. It wasn’t prehensile, after all but Spectre was trying his hardest to control it but it was so much freer to go deeper. And it did. Spectre was unabashed as he tried his best to force the tip of his tail, somewhat smaller than his bereft prick, into Ryoken. He shuddered, feeling his insides recoil with the flimsy intrusions thrust upon them. Ryoken found that element of unpredictability to be a turn on; whether it was an unintended slap against his thighs or pulling back when Spectre grunted contrary, he liked it all.

Ryoken grinded his lower body down, against Spectre’s appendages. He bit his lower lip in frustration and Spectre would have found it adorable were he not concerned that Ryoken may puncture his own lip, even with his dumb, dull human teeth. So, he lifted up his head and his long neck came circling in. Gravity very much did not like this, but Spectre was determined to make love to Ryoken against the heavy pressure of his contortions. 

Spectre kissed, licked, really, at the corner of Ryoken’s mouth. Distracting him from his own nibbling at his lips. Ryoken moaned into the sloppy kiss; it reverberated on Spectre’s jowls, enticing him. Spectre made a noise, in turn, which was raw and euphoric. Ryoken shivered in response to such a bestial noise, no doubt parallel to Spectre’s orgasm when glutted with his masculine, mustelid oestrus. 

That noise spurred Ryoken to kiss Spectre, simultaneously in turn and on his own volition. He hesitantly lifted his hands to Spectre’s maw; his fingers close to Spectre’s gums where his sharp teeth jutted out. With a simpering breath, glancing between the pale of his fingernails and the white of Spectre’s teeth, scratching Spectre’s maw, Ryoken could feel it. A sensation bubbling up through his bloodstream, where his heart pounded, and he grew wetter still in his lust.

Ryoken soon came on Spectre. On both his provided appendages between his legs. Ryoken make cute noises as he did so, Spectre felt the fur on the tip of his tail drench with what it caught of Ryoken’s ejaculate. The rest dripped down the sides of his prick. Spectre slowly, carefully dislodged, both his penetrations from inside of Ryoken. Ryoken sighed a warbled sigh as he did so; further remnants of his orgasms, drained and meandering and the most beautiful melody on Spectre’s ears.

The wake of Ryoken’s voice settled as he painted and controlled his breath. That silence between breaths did not last long. He eased himself off Spectre’s prick and stumbled down onto the floor marred with worn linen and trampled pillows. There, he knelt as Spectre wriggled around, getting newly comfortable once more now that he didn’t have Ryoken on top of him. Of course, his prick waved about as he did so; Ryoken’s eyes trained in it and he licked his lips, even biting down on his lower lip in a lustful intensity.

“Spectre,” he said, “may I lick your prick clean?”

“Oh Ryoken, you don’t have to ask; that’s a given.” Spectre replied; he sounded highly flattered though.

Spectre allowed his hindquarters to still as he wrestled about with his top half. Ryoken came in closer and gave oral to him in turn. He had a hand either side of Spectre’s sheathe, fingers entangling themselves in the fluff of his furry pelvis. Spectre purred as Ryoken tongued over his corona. It glistened with his ejaculate and Ryoken could taste it as his tongue explored the ridges and other crevices of Spectre’s prick. It was funny, odd, but he did not necessarily dislike it as it peculiarly flavoured the already bad tasting fellatio.

Ryoken took more of Spectre’s prick into his mouth. He suppressed his gag reflex as he did so but he did briefly amuse that it was easier presently than when Spectre was bloated with his rut. After a few too many moments, Ryoken drew back, a trail of saliva suspended on his lips and the tip of Spectre’s prick. Drool even dribbled down the side of it, and Ryoken’s chin. He wiped his mouth, staring down Spectre’s belly.

From the bottom of his throat, Spectre laughed, it was quite guttural noise, as he reared his head. His neck flopped over itself and most of his body. There was a hungry and admonishing look in his eyes; as sharp as a gleaming knife. A decisive look which was rare on his bestial face.

“Oh, Ryoken, kitty,” he nattered, pityingly, “perhaps you were onto something when you explained why humans are so ineffectual at grooming without tools. Allow me.”

Spectre headbutted Ryoken away from his prick with a slight nuzzle to his action to remain affectionate. Ryoken stiffened, with awe, as he watched Spectre go down on himself. His groin felt aflame as he watched, studied, how Spectre’s tongue flicked around his prick and how utterly careful he was with his fangs. His maw just easily swallowed up his prick to the fluff of his sheathe. He was noisy as he did so, lapping at his prick and then his eyes, once delicately closed, opened and his gaze flicked to Ryoken. It was a weirdly inviting gaze which invited him closer. He felt sparks go down his spine. He leaned in once more and he pushed his shaggy white fringe out of the way and attempted to help, perhaps even learn something at the odd skill of ferret grooming.

Regardless, Ryoken was cautious as he put his tongue to Spectre’s prick. He felt very small - tiny - beside Spectre’s face, so close, as they both lapped at his prick. Though, Spectre seemed hesitant to share himself. Perhaps he had erroneously read Spectre’s gaze as inviting; so heavy lidded and amorous. But Ryoken followed suit. He noisily lapped at what was bared from Spectre’s mouth. His prick was red hot and dripping wet. 

When Spectre sensed that Ryoken’s confidence had had an uptick, he clumsily transitioned from merely licking at himself. He flicked between himself and at Ryoken’s face; making half laughter bubble up inside of him as he fellated Spectre under the clever guise of grooming him. As such, Ryoken began to inch away from Spectre, so that he could salivate over the show, not so much his own action as he felt as though he were getting Spectre’s way.

But it was honestly mesmerising to watch as Spectre had this beautiful deftness about himself, Ryoken soon realised. He felt the urge to masturabate as he watched Spectre’s tongue elegantly auto-fellate himself. He was so careful to avoid his teeth as he forged his maw further down his prick and yet so quick with his tongue as he slathered his prick with affection and saliva. Knowing he wouldn’t be admonished or the like for it, Ryoken succumbed to his urge.

He muffled a grunt to himself but Spectre noticed. His ear flicked and then remained stringent to detect in his direction. His blue eyes soon followed; only to widen in his list as he saw exactly where Ryoken’s hands were. One of his genitalia; fingering himself and the other holding his face. His breaths began to quicken. His tight chest rising and falling rapidly with them as he masturbated; further inspiring Spectre. 

Ryoken brought himself to climax again. He orgasmed as prettily as he could so that he may give Spectre a show which was a sentiment that he very much appreciated. But he was quite sure that Spectre wouldn’t mind as he enjoyed Ryoken’s own enjoyment; both vicariously and for its own sake as he truly and deeply loved his mate. His pleasure was their pleasure, in a sense and the pleasure that he felt at present was sublime.

With his hand between his legs, Ryoken closed his eyes as he savoured all the bountiful emotions in his chest. Spectre watched, keen and sharp. He adored to see Ryoken at such a precarious and gorgeous brink of pleasure. His eyes and the weight of all his attention was felt in fullest against Ryoken as he kept fingering himself. Edging himself, stuttering through skittish whimpers as he climaxed. Bring himself to full with a gasp, his head jerking up and there was a glitter of sweat on his brow. And the noises he made, too, they were adorable. Spectre licked his lips as he finally saw Ryoken teeter over that edge as he plunged his fingers deep inside of himself, so velvety and desperate.

Ryoken came. With big, heaping breaths which sent his chest aching. He shivered at his own touch which he slowly drew back from within. He hadn’t realised just how far that he had gotten inside of himself until he retreated under Spectre’s careful eye, so curious and aroused. Ryoken panted, and he wiped his fingers, slick and wet, against his upper thigh and Spectre mimicked. He gradually began to remove himself from between his legs, the flesh of his prick revealed once more from between his jagged teeth and the curves of his tongue. He gasped for breath, almost dramatically, upon finishing and Ryoken found himself nigh obsessed with how shiningly wet Spectre’s prick was.

“You mentioned before,” Spectre began, rambling, awkward, “that you wanted to try mutual oral sex. Would you like to try that now or do you require a moment? You must be getting tired…”

“No, please, I mean, I want you to tongue-fuck me.” Ryoken didn’t just have a foot in his mouth in attempt to reply; he had a whole paw.

Ryoken shifted his legs. He sat down more properly as compared to the kneeling-like position that he had been in previously. In doing so, he clumsily invited Spectre to put his snout between his thighs but first, Spectre also had to change position and as usual, that was laborious and time consuming. Doubly so given that he found some twisty position which suited the sexual activity that they wished to engage in. After much, unerotic wriggling about, Spectre got comfortable in the most uncomfortable looking position unimaginable. But at least Ryoken could easily suck him off so long as he didn’t think about Spectre’s spine and the way his body had contorted to make such a thing possible.

Ryoken was getting a little tired but persisted, he felt as though he knew Spectre’s preferences for having his prick licked and sucked now based on what he had seen Spectre do to himself. He kept those images, those memories, at the forefront of his mind as he lazily licked at the ridges of Spectre’s prick. He kept his hands on the fluff of Spectre’s sheathe, toying with his fur affectionately whilst he tongued over Spectre’s oddly shaped corona. He was slow and languid, where he may have been more hurried before. Really, he should have known as Spectre was more stationary than he was; slow to move, slow to get up, sometimes even in hunger. Or so he would have liked to have thought in this somewhat dreamier pace he had adapted into his own oral technique.

Spectre was, meanwhile, strangely ruthless despite maintaining that composed air which valued a gradual climax. Still, the way in which he licked at Ryoken’s genitals was hard. His tongue throbbed against Ryoken’s pulsing flesh, building his arousal, making him whine as he stuffed his mouth with Spectre’s prick. 

It was apparent that Spectre very much wanted Ryoken to get off and rather powerfully at that. Perhaps because he, himself, could not get off how he liked, the very least he could do was to continue to vie for that vicarious orgasm through Ryoken. As such, he was persistent and again, with dragging flicks of his tongue as he ate Ryoken out. Riling him up, pleasuring him greatly until he reached his breaking point; already somewhat broken by his previous orgasms.

Ryoken’s whole body was overwhelmed as Spectre kept his paws neatly, almost cutely, between his sprawling legs and kept his tongue constantly moving along Ryoken’s most delicate and sensitive areas between his legs. He bobbed to and fro as Spectre felated him. Panting hard and his heartbeat pounded even harder as he came against Spectre who relished such a bodily reaction against his maw. Ryoken sighed and he felt himself just melt into Spectre’s bedding afterwards as his heart finally began to slow after beating so hard and fast for so long. Spectre lifted his head up and Ryoken cast a bleary gaze towards him. His eyes were expectant of praise whilst his tongue, ever vivacious, flicked along his lips and teeth. He nattered, barky and satisfied. Ryoken was tempted to jostle him in the hopes of knocking back some of the utter smugness which emanated off Spectre but he resisted. Instead, he smiled wryly.

“You did good, Spectre.” he said with a sigh tinging his exhausted voice.

“Thank you.” Spectre replied.

For a second, Spectre was composed but with attention and validation, no matter how dazed, dangling before him, he couldn’t maintain such a thing. Therefore he was quick to start wriggling again although Ryoken, seeing the shaking and quivering in Spectre’s paws as he rearranged himself yet again, suspected that an old and childish weasel war dance was buried somewhere in this annoying behaviour. He allowed it though. He was in no state to brush Spectre off as he tried to cuddle up as best as he could with the gargantuan physiological difference between them. Soon, Ryoken was all rugged up with Spectre coiled around him both his head and his hind legs essentially on his lap. Something was very heavy combined but adorable enough to bear rather than scold. Ryoken enjoyed spoiling Spectre like that though he would be scant to admit it.

Idly, Spectre hooked a claw at Ryoken’s socks which was still wearing. Ryoken glared and pushed off his claw, irked by the noise it made but at least he didn’t damage the fabric of them.

“I can’t help but think there’s something you want.” Ryoken teased.

“Perhaps.” Spectre sheepishly admitted. “I just. Really like these. A rare human thing that I approve of personally.”

Ryoken laughed; a sardonic short which hurt the bridge of his nose. He should have known. He sighed and he ripped off his socks and threw them towards Spectre’s face. He shook it off but was quick to recover the socks, to jealously hoard them under his front paws.

“Keep them.” he said.

“You should wear these types of things more often.” Spectre commented.

“Thanks.” Ryoken said, curt. “I’ll think about it. Perhaps to your next rut. I’m looking forward to it, I won’t lie.” Ryoken confessed.

“I am delighted to hear that.” Spectre said; a mustelid smirk in his voice.

“In theory, anyway.” Ryoken teased to save face. He yawned and patted his mouth; now it was his turn to rearrange himself. He cuddled up against Spectre. “Good night, Spectre.”

Spectre chittered as he felt Ryoken paw at his fur. “Good night, Ryoken.” He sounded elated.

In the following weeks, Ryoken’s joking theory would come to hold more weight. To himself at least. After all, with every week, their darling Pandor would grow up some more. As much as they were glad that she was no longer a screaming kit with no volume control and was only ever hungry; though, she hadn’t been such a creature for quite some time now, they feared that she was growing up without a companion. She was in clear and dire need of one; even if she had two doting parents, two uncles, and one aunt who were all more than happy to look after her.

Ryoken pondered it, one afternoon in the garden as he played with Pandor whilst Spectre watched - or more accurately snoozed - from nearby; not because he was lazy but merely because he was uncertain how to play with his young or any young at that. Outside of teaching Pandor what he considered practical things like language and hunting; the latter of which Ryoken didn’t think she was old enough still to learn given than he was happy to make her meals in the kitchen to feed her; a treat Spectre somewhat envied, actually. Still, his style was quite unlike Ryoken’s.

Having suffered parental loss as well, Ryoken also wanted to be more involved in his offspring’s life. His carers had been distant and bizarre. His actual father even more so. Thus he relished the opportunity to run about with Pandor in the backyard, getting dirty and muddy with her like he was a child too. But alas. He wasn’t. Hence why he was doing some thinking, as he laid in the grass alongside his daughter who laughed as she watched bees flit through the border of flowers yonder, that perhaps a playmate would be good for her. 

With Spectre’s unspoken embargo on perhaps introducing Pandor to human children of her own emotional intelligence level, the other option they were left with was obvious. Pandor needed a sibling. Spectre had been intent on having a proper litter, of three or four or potentially more, so Ryoken couldn’t imagine if he would have complaints if they were to try again for this sake.

“I love you, Kitty.” Pandor whispered to Ryoken, deep in thought. She pecked Ryoken’s face, ardently, more so with the tip of her nose than her mouth. Her tail and hind legs began to whip about and kick respectively with her own, jittery war dance. Whether or not it was weasel was still to be decided.

Ryoken smiled. He leaned into her and she plopped down onto her belly beside him.

“I love you too, Pandor.” Ryoken replied and he cast his gaze towards Spectre, tempted to beckon him to join this sort of family pile up as well but he looked too content to disturb, in the shadow of the biggest tree in the yard; a shame it’s leaves were not evergreen and autumn marched closer ever still, with crisp browns and oranges. It was a scene which suited him far too well.

Pandor lifted her snout to Ryoken curiously. “You have your thinking face on, Kitty. What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing too important.” Ryoken snickered. “Your birthday perhaps.”

“That sounds nice.” Pandor murmured to herself, placated by the reply.

“Mostly about how lucky I am to have you, actually.” Ryoken continued.

He put his arm around Pandor and brought her in for a hug. Pandor didn’t really appreciate hugs so she squirmed and wrestled about but squealed joyously in the playful thrashing regardless. That made Ryoken smile wider than he would admit and he embraced her so tight. And, of course, Spectre having detected such lovey-dovey things, he had gotten to his paws, as elegantly as he could muster, and waddled in closed. Collapsing by Ryoken’s side, wanting both attention to himself and to give a little bit back to his utterly precious loved ones.

“I hope you are looking forward to winter, Spectre.” Ryoken murmured in Spectre’s closest ear.

Spectre made a bizarre and shocked noise which concerned Pandor immensely.

“Are you okay Papa?” she asked.

Spectre guffawed but recovered himself. “Yes, Pandor, I’m fine.” he said, lying through his teeth as he was utterly scandalised that Ryoken would say such things so close to their little one.

Bemusement flashed in Ryoken’s eyes. Spectre at him glared him back, over the back of Pandora's head.

“Winter won’t be long.” Ryoken murmured, seemingly aimless. “It’ll be snowing before we know it. We should enjoy this moment.”

“Quite right.” Spectre tentatively agreed.

Pandor purred. Completely oblivious to the underhanded conversation her parents were having.

In it, Spectre was concerned that his rut would skip yet another year. And in it, Ryoken was thinking about how romantic he was being. He knew damn well what sort of awful things would happen to his body in the aftermath of Spectre’s rut. Though given the more permanent changes, it may be easier for him. He’s heard rumours that the second time around is easier than the first.

Still, they remained in that moment of time, tranquil, like Ryoken asked. They all rolled over onto their backs and admired the cornflower blue sky and felt the cool wind of their ears and simply enjoyed each other’s company in the most basic of ways. It was a moment that Ryoken knew that he would cherish for years upon years to come. He could only hope that Spectre and Pandor felt the same way.

Later that afternoon, when the evening had begun to draw in, there was a chill in the air, and it served to reinforce Ryoken’s reveries. It truly would be winter before they knew it. But, for now, it was merely another dinner time in the peaceful fall.

Whilst Pandor darted up to the bathroom, to be bathed later before she could join everyone for mealtime, Spectre cornered Ryoken so that they could talk about what Ryoken had implied throughout the last few bits of playtime with their daughter. Ryoken smiled playfully at Spectre’s somewhat surly look that he had across his brow. He reached out and scratched at Spectre’s chin. He softened briefly but continued to pout afterwards.

“Why are you in a bad mood all of a sudden?” Ryoken asked.

“I’m not.” Spectre denied. “I’m just concerned, is all. You’re feeling way too amorous these days.”

“The tides will turn sure enough, with the weather, if we’re lucky.” Ryoken replied.

“I take it you're ready for more kits?” Spectre asked.

“I am.” Ryoken calmly stated.

Spectre softened again, he rubbed up against Ryoken’s midsection. “I’m glad... I just wanted to make sure. I don’t want to pressure you into things and the like.”

“I think I’ve been ready for a while but it's only just come to the forefront of my thoughts. I think it’s important for Pandor to have a playmate. I fear to think about how I would have turned out without you around.” Ryoken explained.

“I hope that Pandor experiences such similar kinship in her future.” Spectre agreed.

“Yes, it would be nice.” Ryoken said.

Spectre’s stomach rumbled and he smiled mirthfully, awkwardly. “You better go upstairs, Pandor’s waiting to be bathed. I have no doubt she will be ravenous quite soon.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Ryoken said and he pecked Spectre’s forehead. “Happy hunting, I’ll try and save you some leftovers, but I swear. Pandor eats more than you.”

“I have no doubt.” Spectre murmured.

“See you soon.” Ryoken told him.

“Yes, see you soon.” Spectre replied.

Such exchanges have always been their routine, their ritual. It was familiar and domestic until it wasn’t. It simply slipped away as the days grew shorter and the nights had grown longer. When the days were colder and the nights even worse for frigidity. Winter had come without them noticing, or at least close to it. And with winter, eventually, came Spectre’s rut, just like Ryoken had suspected. It had taken a year, after his first one, to resurface but it had and hard. It was difficult to adjust to such changes inside himself, Spectre found uncomfortably, but it was more difficult now with Pandor who couldn’t understand why her dear Papa had suddenly withdrawn as he had.

To make up for it, Ryoken was trying to engage her more to distract her. As well as trying to get her honorary, human aunt and uncles to engage with her more. In the absence of Spectre’s declining attention, which she was only given the smoke and mirrors explanation of, she did appreciate the extra attention from others. Though, it wasn’t as good. Snout kissies and paw scritches were absolutely superior to mouth kissies and hand scritches; a sentiment which Ryoken could agree with but not without laughing, anyway.

Given that there was more of an element of planning to this second coming of Spectre’s heat cycle, that meant that they had to get Pandor out of the house for such a thing to occur, as well as the three assistants as well as Ryoken’s own mood to align. It was difficult and Spectre waited rather impatiently for such conditions to arise but just as the difference between snowing and sleeting was fickle, it did sometimes happen.

Point blankly, Ryoken did make Spectre wait somewhat more than perhaps either of them would have liked. It’s just that Ryoken’s mind was running constant calculations against calendars and dates and more. After all, Spectre had to fuck him twice, but they were starting sooner as compared to Pandor’s conception and the fanfare which had preceded it which was to their advantage. In a distinctly human perspective, Ryoken wanted it so that there was some difference in birth dates between Pandor and their second born so he needed the dates right more so than himself. Though, he would never tell that to Spectre because he wouldn’t exactly find that amusing. After all, his kin were likely born in litters far bigger than what Ryoken could incubate.

But, there did come a day where planning and impatience aligned. Ryoken was ready for procreative sex and Spectre was more than happy to oblige; he was chomping at the bit to indulge and satiate his rut thereby knocking Ryoken up in the process. Or, at least readying Ryoken’s body up so he could be impregnated, darn the induced oestrus aspect of ferret reproduction but without it, there could be no kits at all.

Though to Spectre’s disappointment, Ryoken did not turn up to his dark and smelly den in negligee like he hoped. But a Ryoken all dolled up in his winter pyjamas and with a horny glint in his pretty eyes was also very good. Spectre couldn’t pull Ryoken into his den quick enough, to be honest. It was all a stumbling and bumbling rush to get inside but the harried aspect of it was strangely romantic. Roguishly so, in a way. Ryoken felt metaphorically swept off his feet when Spectre’s tail whipped around to shut the door. His hand reached for the light and Spectre’s head lifted almost immediately. His tongue wormed its way through the gaps of his teeth, flicking over his lips before he leaned in closer to Ryoken to whisper something in his teeny tiny human ears.

“I want you to let me check your fertility.” Spectre whispered.

Ryoken breathed hard and he took half a step back. His body bumped against the door, his fingers trailing on the wood pattern as Spectre encroached on him further. Ryoken’s legs ached as he awkwardly stood apart. His heart began to hammer harder in his chest.

“I don't think you need to.” Ryoken replied, licking his lips.

“But I would very much like to.” Spectre somewhat argumentatively replied with a huff.

Ryoken sighed. He supposed that he couldn’t deny Spectre of such a demand so he opened up some more space between his legs, shuffling where he stood. Spectre’s paws were greedy by Ryoken’s feet. Ryoken, meanwhile, scrambled to get out of his winter pyjamas, only getting as far as taking off his lazy slacks before Spectre intervened with well earned impatience.

“Thank you, dear.” Spectre whispered.

With a very happy exhale through his mouth, Spectre lowered his head and then shoved his snout between Ryoken’s legs. Ryoken shivered as Spectre, quite roughly, investigated his genitals. His wet nose was quite warm as he very thoroughly sniffed, and then licked, at Ryoken’s genitals.

Spectre was drearily disappointed by what he sniffed out. He had had some feeble hope that his and Ryoken’s last tryst may have incited an early onset of oestrus in Ryoken but alas. It hadn’t at all. Humans were the worst. Not so much as a whiff of a scent or a streak or red on him but Spectre could still smell the budding arousal on Ryoken, that much was a consolidation. But at least that meant that Spectre got to fuck Ryoken more. That was certainly quite the nice little upside, even if it meant he wasn’t giving off the delicious aromas of heat. That and the fact that, in his own uniquely human way, Ryoken was ripe with the possibility of impregnation. That was a good little thing that Spectre had detected as well.

Still, Spectre had no qualm at all transitioning from simply nosing up against Ryoken, sniffing him hard and haphazard, to licking him, thereby performing oral sex on him. Based on how Ryoken squirmed, and moaned so pleasurably, he likely didn’t have a qualm with it either. He sounded wonderful as Spectre stroked the inside of his thighs with his tongue before flicking up, dastardly almost, to his genitals and delving inside them, stimulating him grandly.

Ryoken struggled to contain himself as Spectre persisted. He grunted and groaned as Spectre so eagerly lapped at him. His tongue was rough and barbed but it was somehow the perfect stimulation. Ryoken reached out and ran his hands through the thick fur on Spectre’s forehead, enjoying that sensation simultaneously. He scratched behind Spectre’s ears and his hindleg began to thud contentedly, pounding on the floor and enticed Spectre to tongue him deeper, harder, until Ryoken could take it no more. Coming against Spectre’s muzzle, unthinkingly pulling on his ears.

Spectre made mixed noises at having his ears grabbed like that. He had been truly melting into the petting but he also very much did not appreciate being yanked like that but he found it in himself to forgive Ryoken because the taste of his arousal was sublime. The jerky noises coming out of Spectre’s maw turned into a smooth purr as he lapped at Ryoken who shuddered in the wake of his orgasm. He began to slouch against the door, letting Spectre take more and more of his weight up the bridge of his snout.

“Enjoying that?” Spectre murmured, cheekily tonguing the centerpoint of Ryoken’s pleasure as he asked.

Ryoken took an all but snivelling breath, tilting his head up, going red in the face, as the reverberations from such a curt question worked him up from said centerpoint.

“Yes.” he replied, breathy and needy.

“Do you want more?” Spectre asked, keeping on with that barbed pressure.

“Yes.” Ryoken replied all too quickly.

Spectre trilled sweetly for him. That was exactly how he loved to have Ryoken. All vulnerable and whimpering, begging to be served by his dearest monster. Spectre found it utterly splendid. So, he kept licking at Ryoken but his tongue delved further. Elsewhere. Until he was rimming Ryoken who absolutely writhed for him. Ryoken lifted a leg and that was just the foothold that Spectre needed to elevate Ryoken. Grinding his body against the wall, pressuring and nigh punitive as in Spectre’s refined opinion, Ryoken had been far too daring in making him wait so long, there had been plenty of opportunities before for a tryst but he had denied Spectre so, he couldn’t help himself. He lashed Ryoken well over with his tongue, wheedling into his little human hole until he could lift Ryoken off the floor. All whilst licking his puckered hole.

Ryoken squirmed, half thrashed about causing Spectre to flinch but he was oddly unoffended. It helped that Ryoken was quite small so even a half-hearted kick felt nothing more than a thump or flick on Spectre’s brow. Besides, Spectre could always up his ante, eating out Ryoken in perverse punishment - and he very happily did. 

From the back of his throat came a growl which reverberated along his tongue and through Ryoken. Ryoken moaned, was made undone by the way Spectre’s tongue all but vibrated inside of him. Spectre was all too smug to watch how Ryoken moaned and panted at being stimulated like that. He dragged his tongue back through Ryoken and then flicked the tip to the front of Ryoken’s genitals.

He tasted so good, Spectre thought as he drilled his tongue into Ryoken’s most intimate parts. However, he sounded even better, riled up and into the throes of animalistic ecstasy. His voice was absorbed by the bedding that Spectre had in the room but Spectre savoured it on the meanwhile. Taking it deep to heart and using it as power for his contented noises driving Ryoken wild in the first place. He would do anything to rile Ryoken up in the name of foreplay and seeing how flushed his face and body were, it was working.

He must be all pent up, his human lust suffering more than Spectre in the downtime of his ruts, because he came so easily again. It was certainly getting Spectre all pent up. His penile bone was sliding out of his furry socket between his hind legs, were it not for his longstanding desire to worship Ryoken, focus all his attention on him, then he may have permitted himself to jump and grind against the floor to alleviate some of the tension building in his groin. His prick burned red hot with lust as Spectre furthered getting off on fellating Ryoken.

Spectre growled as he felt Ryoken thrust against his face and moan sob blissfully. Bowing down, Spectre let Ryoken slump; feet ghosting along the floor before he found a foothold. Retreating from between Ryoken’s legs, Spectre licked at his maw for the after taste of Ryoken’s orgasms on his mouth. He tasted even better on his lips, Spectre thought to himself, making noises over it, whilst Ryoken got a moment to himself.

“Wow.” he murmured to himself. “You have been looking forward to this.”

“I have.” Spectre said.

“You must be pretty raring to go. You know, to raw me.” Ryoken mused.

Spectre blinked. He turned embarrassed, his long and gangly body bunched up. His prick throbbed hard. The fur along his spine rippled as he felt a twitch go through his nerves there. He licked his lips and he inched closer to Ryoken, licking his face when he was all but on top of him.

“Just a little bit.” Spectre confessed.

Ryoken caressed the edge of Spectre’s face, roughing up the fur along his maw playfully.

“Then I ought to be a good mate and take pity on you, yes?” Ryoken asked, his voice rocked in a placid but husky way.

That more than got Spectre’s attention. “It would be nice.” he purred and there was a specifically controlled look of artful patheticness in his eyes. 

Ryoken sighed and he got up. His pyjama shirt fluttered with the inertia and Spectre watched that very carefully. With a spry step, Ryoken maneuvered around Spectre and took the centre of the room where they usually made love. Ryoken dropped down again, into the cushiony bedding beneath, and he watched as Spectre’s behind wiggled about as his front half swung about so he could face Ryoken. And once Ryoken had Spectre’s eyes again, he began to take off his shirt as he presumed that Spectre would want to watch that.

He would be right, of course. Spectre made some absolutely delighted and delectable noises as Ryoken stripped off his shirt. He undid the buttons, each and every one of them, down his sternum before taking it off and casting it aside. Spectre crawled a little bit closer to him and plopped his head in Ryoken’s lap, nose to his belly button.

“You’re pretty cute sometimes, Spectre.” Ryoken told him and he cupped Spectre’s right ear and toyed with the fat and fur that he found behind it before transitioning into just giving him a whole-hearted scratch there.

Spectre purred, greatly enjoying the chaste attention. He thumped his hindleg slightly, his tail swished about as well. And Ryoken found himself mentally correcting his statement. Spectre was adorable, not just cute, and he was adorable all of the time, not just sometimes.

When Ryoken stopped, Spectre lifted his head. Not to be petty but rather to return the favour. He licked at Ryoken’s face again and he laughed. Spectre’s tongue was rough and coarse but somehow, Ryoken was never irked by having it so lovingly raked over his face. And other places as Spectre was quick to move downwards. Licking and kissing Ryoken’s neck and then his clavicles, revelling in every whine that he produced from Ryoken who embraced him in return, arms coiling around Spectre’s long neck and was pleasurably made asunder from Spectre’s tongue, before latching his mouth to Ryoken’s chest.

In the subsequence of Pandor’s weaning, Ryoken’s chest had flattened. They supposed that it made sense but it wasn’t a very human trait typically but it was still a mammalian one but said flattening was a contributing reason as to why Spectre was rather keen to knock Ryoken up again. He had aesthetic preferences, so to speak. And he didn’t think that Ryoken minded Spectre's preferences very much based on how he melted into how Spectre very thoroughly licked his chest. Not an inch went without getting swiped over at least once but Spectre paid more attention to Ryoken’s nipples than anywhere else as they were rather the exciting erogenous zone for Ryoken. Toying with them turned him on greatly given how he panted and how wet he became over the nipple play. His legs shifting, giving Spectre more room in turn, his whole body begging for Spectre to come closer still.

Something which was quite the impossibility given the extreme size difference between them but Spectre was very taken by Ryoken’s accommodation of said differences. 

Spectre slowly inched his hindquarters closer so that he may envelope Ryoken, all whilst paying him luscious attention. Slowly but surely, Spectre had Ryoken in loose and languid coil; not too strong lest he was smothered but not too sloppy so that he might feel even a flicker of the cold from outside. Humans, so defenceless being hairless and tiny, Spectre half thought to himself whilst he continued to ravish Ryoken body.

“Ryoken,” Spectre whispered, his soft voice and warm breath skittered over Ryoken’s chest, “I want to breed you, is that alright?”

“Please.” Ryoken far too quickly replied, embracing Spectre just that little bit tighter, bucking his nether regions.

Spectre chortled. A lewd and barky noise from the back of his throat which electrified Ryoken’s nerves already running rampant from how he had been stimulated. Immensely gratified to hear such sweet nothings from his mate. Even if this was the part where the way that they played became more difficult. But Ryoken was more than happy to surrender himself to Spectre, allowing him to get everything right.

“Rather than nearly smother you to death like before, let’s try something a bit more passive, hm?” Spectre suggested to him.

“I don’t mind either way.” Ryoken replied, a touch cheeky sounding. 

Spectre hummed, amused to hear that but he liked his idea a little bit more. Just for the first round, he supposed to himself since Ryoken was brave, apparently. Spectre extended his forepaws past Ryoken’s body, guarding him, and rather possessively at that. He licked at the back of Ryoken’s neck and with more teeth this time than before. Ryoken shivered when he felt the barred nudging of Spectre’s teeth whilst his lower body got into position but all it did was encourage him to snuggle into Spectre’s stretched out arms. He enjoyed the almost lazy embrace that they had come around to. Spectre lifted a leg and revealed his erection. 

Compared to the last time they had engaged in a tryst, Spectre’s prick looked nothing like how it did before. It was all thick and red now. Not to mention, fully shot through from its furry sling and Ryoken was eager to have it inside of him, he had to admit when he glanced down that way along his lover’s body. He felt his mouth moisten as he admired just how Spectre’s flesh glistened.

Ryoken returned his lusty gaze, ice blue, to Spectre. Spectre nuzzled the tip of his face against Ryoken.

“I’m ready.” Ryoken breathed.

“That is good to hear.” Spectre replied.

Lying sideways in the bedding together felt good. Domestically and blissfully so. But it changed when Spectre curled in, slightly, and Ryoken felt the preliminary thrust of Spectre’s prick attempting penetration. He cooed loudly. Despite having a bluntened penile head, the size of it still shocked Ryoken before it managed to ease inside of him slightly. 

Rocking the internal bone to and fro with stiff, unrefined movements, Spectre had Ryoken yowling with pleasure and pain. And Spectre only exacerbated that by moving his head in closer to Ryoken’s, opening his mouth against what little space there was, twisting slightly also he could even have Ryoken in the slightest pinch of a bite between his jaws. Ryoken struggled a little bit but such extraneous movements only sweetened Spectre more, encouraging further exploration of both poles of Ryoken’s body. 

Spectre slid his prick in further into Ryoken, not quite hooking just yet, merely getting him reused to the sensation of his erect prick - or at least that was his intention anyway - all whilst occupying his mouth. Alternating between giving him wet but ultimately chaste kisses and lashings of his tongue across his neck, all with a hint of teeth behind them. Ryoken mewled lewdly at the touch of Spectre’s handiwork.

With such precious noises in his ears, Spectre couldn’t resist. He simply had to breed Ryoken, nice and proper. He couldn’t wait to get him all red and inflamed with oestrus, couldn’t wait to get him all plump and round with kits again. Just thinking about it, even scantly, made Spectre mad with lust and impatience. He was just so excited. And so, he hooked Ryoken as quick as he could. Filling him up to the best of his ability given those inconvenient size differences. With the tip flared, flexing inside of Ryoken, it made him moan as he realised that Spectre’s prick wouldn’t be coming out any time soon.

It took a good pump, from the base of it upwards, which had Spectre growling in cute frustration from the force he was exerting over himself but his prick began to produce semen. Ryoken sighed as he took the brunt of the hot gush inside of him. He melted into the sensation which was weird and anything but divine but he enjoyed it so much regardless. He clutched onto Spectre a little tighter, snuggling into him happily. It was strange. He didn’t mind the stench that Spectre exuded nor how greasy he felt. Ryoken took such quirks of physiology in good nature, even finding it to be a strangely erotic stimulus for himself as Spectre ravished him.

“This feels so good.” Ryoken confessed to Spectre with a quiet and salacious voice.

“Imagine how it feels for me.” Spectre replied and he playfully nipped at Ryoken’s hair and ears before actually landing a soft blow on his neck.

They laid like that for a good amount of time. Still, for most of it, until Spectre got cocky. Wanting to be closer yet to his partner. Transitioning from his own idea of how they ought to make love, for a change of pace, to what Ryoken had expected. Spectre carefully coiled around Ryoken, moving him gently, so that Spectre’s body could snake around his own. Twisting and tightening, coiling and curling until Ryoken was nestled between slabs of Spectre’s needlessly long body, held onto by his paws and propped up on Spectre’s belly: still getting fucked by his prick.

In an utter turnaround from their first tryst, Ryoken didn’t spend a single second agonising as pervert, romantic, or scientist. He merely let it happen. The mindlessness was a comfort in the midst of such a hot deluge for him to indulge. He sighed, breath taken, with how it felt to be flooded as it were. Even the slightest or most subtle of movements that Spectre made, Ryoken felt it all inside of him. Could see it bulge in the abyss of his belly. It made him feel so good and he had to share it with Spectre. Every breath he took, every sigh that he made, no matter how it twisted into a moan or the like, Ryoken revelled in it all, sharing his vocal pleasure with Spectre.

At the end of it, all Ryoken wanted, was to be made a parent again. Bred.

And that pleased Spectre immensely. His own voice twisting as he could no longer simply keep his mouth on Ryoken. As his stream petered out, he felt the onset of his delayed orgasm. Such imminence pulsated within his blood, blooming as the need to make various noises, unable to keep his mouth on Ryoken like he would dream. Spectre chirped and barked in rollicking noises of pleasure and delight. He tipped his head back and allowed the full extent of his voice to be known. 

How fortunate it is that Spectre’s den soaked noise well given how heavily decorated with various beddings and cushions the like as Spectre was getting rather loud. How unfortunate it was that Ryoken was still human and still in the room, therefore he rang with the full extent of Spectre’s lust. It was painful but absolutely worth it. 

Spectre pulled out and Ryoken gaped with excess fluid. Twenty minutes worth of semen had been ejaculated inside of him and he half relished how it felt to have it languish inside of him and another half of him was somewhat, even rightly, revolted. But on the sum of the whole, it did feel good for him.

Felt better still when Spectre, curiously, began poking his parts with the tip of his tail. Ryoken hiccuped with the sudden touches, a little sharp, no matter how dense the fur was, it still hurt a little bit to be used as prodder in such sensitive parts of the human body. Spectre nipped at the back of Ryoken’s neck again; nudging him with his snout.

“May I lick you clean?” he asked.

Arousal immediately shot through Ryoken’s spine, down his back and pooled in his overstuffed loins.

“Absolutely.” His reply came on a wisp of a breath. He squirmed about slightly, Spectre permitting him movement once more, relaxing his embrace, loosening his coil. Ryoken got onto all fours, grinding his nether regions against Spectre’s lower belly and looked up excitedly. “Can I sit on your mouth?”

“I would be delighted, Kitty.” Spectre replied.

His tail excitedly whipped about as he waited like a good puppy, in all animal honesty, for Ryoken to climb up his body further. Spectre left his jaws ajar and Ryoken has no hesitation to clamber over his maw and take a perch. Spectre salivated beneath him as Ryoken made a throne of his mouth. Legs either side of his lips; sinking into toothed depths, unafraid, and Spectre’s tongue killed about. Ryoken cupped Spectre’s jowls. His fingertips ghosting through where Spectre’s fur was short and wiry, sparse even, on his maw.

Spectre slowly began to caress Ryoken’s inner thighs with his barbed tongue. It swirled through the streaks of leakage painting Ryoken’s skin, making him shiver. He proceeded to eat Ryoken out. Spectre adored how he tasted having been made a mess of with semen and even just from having Spectre’s prick inside him. He had a richer, fuller taste than compared to before. Even earthy. Wanting more of that beautiful taste, Spectre delved deep inside of Ryoken again.

Ryoken bucked his hips and exhaled through his mouth, a thin, strained breath stewed with ardent lust. He shivered and panted as he stirred up resistance to Spectre’s mouth, not minding one bit how his own body created friction against Spectre’s fangs which he knew could damn well eviscerate him but he knew Spectre would never hurt him. 

Now that he thought about it, as deep in the throes of sexual ecstasy as he was, Ryoken realised that Spectre had never laid so much as a claw against him, not even in the heat of an argument or the like. He had barked threats at the assistants, he had terrorised the mailmen and anyone else who may dare pass by the mansion on a daily route for whatever reason but he had never done such a thing, in jest or joke, against Ryoken. He couldn’t help but feel immensely special due to that. He was callous to the whole world save for Ryoken, and to Pandor, too, of course, whom he was so soft and sweet for.

“Fuck,” Ryoken panted as Spectre fellated him, “I love you so much.”

He could feel the smile, all smug and mustelid, conveyed in Spectre's body language. The way his lips twitched, the way his breath was exhaled, and even in how there were subtle shifts to how Spectre tongue-fucked Ryoken - and a little bit harder now, at that. It was all there and it made Ryoken glow with euphoria. 

Spectre continued to ardently eat Ryoken out. Milking him and making him mewl, all whilst enjoying the delicious flavour of Ryoken’s flesh mixed with his own come. Yes, it was splendid. Simply divine. Ryoken squirmed at the delving and the lashing, providing Spectre with token resistance but the friction only made him more possessive. Moving his paws slightly so that he could corner Ryoken, make him settle and behave so Spectre could clean him nice and good.

If that’s what he was doing at all. Ryoken happened upon some doubts. Doubts that he voiced.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to clean me or if you’re just trying to push your come into me further.” Ryoken continued; his voice was rasping.

Spectre grunted. Unamused as Ryoken may have just made a point. Thus, ever petulant, Spectre tongue-fucked Ryoken’s hole a little more roughly. It made Ryoken shiver but he enjoyed it. Taking it all in good natured endeavour and endurance. 

Ryoken panted. “Y-Your surprisingly impatient. Hasty.” he said, commented. “But you know that won’t breed me faster.”

Spectre snorted. Ryoken felt the hot, even rotten, breath skitter across his body. Spectre swiped through him one last time before retreating his tongue. It jerked along his own mouth as he stared down the curves of Ryoken’s body before he decided to deal with such adorable insolence from his mate.

“I know.” Spectre finally replied. Somewhat surrendered. “But I can’t help myself. I’m selfish.” 

Despite saying that, he gave Ryoken more room to twist about so he could plop himself down in front of Spectre, not on him, so that they could have a conversation face to face. He looked a little bit tired. Skin all flushed, still bloated with Spectre’s semen, so on and so forth but he was smiling. He was relaxed, too. So it was a good type of tired.

“I find it cute though.” Ryoken snickered.

“Do you want to go another round then, perhaps?” asked Spectre, his voice dropping low but not necessarily expectant. Though, he did bring out the kittenish eyes for it.

Ryoken mulled it over. He reached his hand up and Spectre immediately put his head to Ryoken’s teeny tiny palm. Ryoken sighed as he mussed up Spectre’s coarse fur. It was so thick and wet with grease but Ryoken tried not to mind. Not when he heard the thrum of Spectre’s voice low in his throat. He closed his eyes to the affection, even the barest hint of it. His tail began to fidget and that made Ryoken bittersweetly happy. Some days, he wished that Spectre could be more honest with himself. Always trying to be a good little monster (so huge and awkward) in this threshold of humans, denying himself things which would enrich him because he didn’t want to be inconvenient. No wonder he embraced even a smidgen of selfishness when he finally got the chance. Such as with his ruts. 

Ryoken smiled to himself. “I’d like that, love.” he replied.

Spectre was thrilled to hear that. A huge grin split across his mustelid face and he was quick to shove it against Ryoken’s. Nuzzling his face, his neck and shoulders too and then giving him a lick which made his skin crawl because Ryoken remembered exactly where that had been just moments before but fortunately for Spectre, it also made his heart thud pleasurably in equal measure so that excused him.

“Do you want me close so you can bite me and stuff?” Ryoken asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, that would be appreciated.” Spectre softly replied.

With a hefty sigh, Ryoken got up. He stretched out his body again so that he was somewhere near limber. He took another breath and Spectre turned over. Expectant. Ryoken got up on his body and embraced him. His arms slid either side of Spectre’s neck and with great effort, making sounds of even greater ordinance in the process, Spectre managed to get his hindquarters up closer to where Ryoken was. His face, meanwhile, found a nice little spot to slide in against Ryoken’s neck and shoulders where he was already quite peppered with love bites but it was never quite enough for Spectre. Still, he pressed a kiss onto Ryoken who smiled to himself. Snuggling into Spectre’s fur.

“Please.” he whispered. “I want you to breed me.”

So, taking him from behind, Spectre made good on such a sweet request. With a struggling grunt and a tail which wagged, Spectre coaxed his penile bone forth.

“I could never deny you such a pleasure. Or anything at all, actually, should it be within my means. I love you too much.” Spectre told him as he inserted his prick into Ryoken again.

Ryoken moaned but it petered out to a sigh before it fully left his mouth. His contentment was beyond palpable for them both. During such, Ryoken arched his back with a buck but Spectre eased so effortlessly inside of him. The tip flared slightly so as to anchor itself inside of Ryoken and Spectre began to ejaculate again. It took something of an internal jerk to go again, Ryoken could feel the uncharacteristic twitch in Spectre’s prick, and Spectre could tell that Ryoken had felt it. He was a little bit embarrassed about it but Ryoken seemed like he could care less about it. He sighed again and his voice was a blissful nectar to Spectre’s ears which flicked.

Ryoken closed his eyes and felt Spectre’s about against his neck and shoulders. He chittered sweet nothings into Ryoken’s flesh as he pounded him. Ryoken couldn’t make out a lick of it but it chilled him pleasurably regardless. Sparks and tingles congregated beneath his skin, distracting him from all else but what it was that Spectre was doing to him. He adored the animalistic grunts which Spectre bestowed with him as he nipped at his already bruised and reddened neck and shoulders. But Ryoken could tell that this was Spectre being extremely gentle so he adored that as well. All whilst he was pumped full of come again. He felt fit to burst and it was strange to him that that was a sensation which he liked.

Their sex devolved from something which was once melodramatic and in the moment to something a little sleepier. It became more of a snuggle or a cuddle than anything else, despite the circumstances. Ryoken didn’t mind. This was nice too. Nice in ways their other sex wasn’t usually until afterwards since this was during. Spectre’s grunts had turned to yawns and snuffles as he took longer than usual to give his all inside of Ryoken. Yet, quite strangely, this was, emotionally, the shortest amount of time that Ryoken had been hooked for to breed, he felt.

Spectre guffawed as he neared the end of his ejaculation. Ryoken moved his legs slightly beneath him in a vain attempt to help Spectre but it was a little bit redundant instead of helpful. Still, Spectre’s tongue curled in on itself as he made a slightly loud noise of glee at having comed. Ryoken’s body absorbed the noise and in the wake of such nattering, he came quietly. It was more to himself than to Spectre but Spectre could smell the sudden spike of all those intoxicating hormones which Ryoken produced when he orgasmed and he did adore it.

“Well done,” Ryoken murmured as Spectre unhooked himself from inside him, “you bred me.”

“I did.” Spectre said, sounding far too proud with himself. His voice was something like a mumble.

Ryoken rolled over so he could face Spectre. He reached out and Spectre immediately put his face between Ryoken’s palms. His fingers squelched through the thick and greasy fur on Spectre’s maw.

“I’m looking forward to it, you know.” Ryoken commented. “Being made a parent again.”

Spectre nuzzled against Ryoken’s hands, nudging left and then right and sighed. “There is still a fair bit ahead of us before that but I’m looking forward to it as well.” 

Ryoken smiled warmly. “Do you want to get some sleep?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t mind that all.” Spectre’s reply was all but laced with sarcasm.

It made Ryoken laugh. Spectre seemed to smile in turn but the way his lips thinned turned into a yawn. That also made Ryoken laugh because it was funny to him how something so cute could turn so creepy when Spectre showed off every sharp tooth that he had in his mouth.

Spectre settled again and Ryoken grabbed his shirt, putting it on hastily so he could settle as well. He drew in closer to Spectre and the heat that he emanated was calming. Ryoken hugged Spectre’s neck as he tried to lull himself to sleep. It was very comfortable to curl against one another once more, just to relax.

“Still thinking dirty things?” Ryoken asked curiously after a beat of silence had been drawn out too long.

“No, actually.” Spectre replied and Ryoken was surprised to hear that. “I sort of don’t need to when everyday is a delight with you. I’m just very happy to have all the things I want. It’s quite wonderful.”

“Glad I could provide.” Ryoken murmured and his voice lingered. He licked his lips and he thought about the silence. He knew they were both on the verge of going to sleep but he had to say one last thing. “I love you.” He professed it, earnest and small. Domestic.

“I love you, too, Ryoken. Get some sleep. We still have a long winter ahead of us but spring will be lovely, no doubt.” Spectre whispered.

“I’ll let you name the next one then.” Ryoken teased.

“Hush, you.” Spectre scolded him and his tail pounded and whipped about impatiently. A weasel war dance of minutiae but adorable and thankfully non-destructive, nonetheless despite the thudding noises. “But I’ll come up with something nice for our next kit, I promise.”

Ryoken tried to laugh but his breath wasn’t quite in it. Though he liked that wispy sound that he produced anyway because it was happy. Ryoken snuggled in closer to Spectre, he felt sluggish but it was a good kind of sloppy exhaustion. He closed his eyes and he fell asleep all too easily to the lullaby of Spectre’s heartbeat, and he dreamt of the spring which was still far off but he was looking forward to it.

The End.


	7. Drawings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just drawings and stuff that I did whilst working on this fic, mostly for my own benefit since Spectre was very Large and I occasionally had trouble working out positioning and stuff but I figured I would add them to this fic in case people were interested.

**Miscellaneous Doodles**

Paint, May 26th 2020

**Spectre but Fluffy**

Medibang, October 9th 2019

**Scene from Chapter 2**

Medibang, July 11th 2019

(this one was a bit large so click here for better viewing: <https://privatter.net/i/3826012>)


End file.
